One Good Lie and a River of Blood
by Beanshiee
Summary: Deputy finds herself trapped in the very center of the conflict between the Eden's Gate and the Resistance. Her main problem, however, is not the cult itself, but the rather complicated past that binds her with John Seed. As if that was not enough, other members of his family also start showing significant interest in the Deputy. And everything started with the stolen wallet...
1. One Good Lie (Past) - 1

**Author's note:** I would like to mention that I am not an English-speaking writer, I'm from Poland. Therefore, some errors may appear in the text, but I tried to make sure that there would be as few as possible. Also, this fanfiction will have two parts - one will be about John's and my OC's past, and then we will jump right into the FC5 timeline. Keep in mind that of course there's gonna be a lot of John (and later Eden's Gate and Seed Family in general) but also my OC, because I want to develop her as much as I can. Thank you for understanding and enjoy.

* * *

Atlanta. About 420,000 people who run their different, yet predictable and schematic lives. The streets were full of teenagers staring at cell phones, adults going or coming back from work. Elders sitting on benches, remembering their youth, complaining about ignorance among new generations.

A man dressed in an elegant blue shirt and a brown vest watched all this in silence, dispassionately watching his surroundings. He hated this world. Its blind society. Everyone saw him as a successful man, who was proud of himself. But John Duncan was a completely different person. Full of suppressed anger and resentment, wanting revenge on those who ignored his suffering. Who deprived him of the only people he ever cared for. He lost his brothers. They were took away from him, thrown out. They were deprived of dignity and identity, just like him.

One would think that after all these years he forgot about his past, or simply threw it into a corner. His pain, his name. But John remembered. He had an excellent memory. All the pain he suffered at the hands of Old Man Seed and then his foster parents was hidden deeply inside of him and waited for the right moment. It was not easy to hide injuries for such a long period of time, but John found several ways. It was work, cocaine, and women. Work brought profits and respect. Cocaine and women - entertainment and relaxation. It helped him to forget for a while. His life was also monotonous, in its own way, as in the case of most of the inhabitants of Atlanta. After work, he returned home, where he spent the night with a random woman in the trails of cocaine. Each time it was a different woman - he liked to change them. He didn't want to be with only one because he was afraid of emotional attachment. And when he felt that he started to like some woman too much, he eagerly erased her from memory and threw a piece of paper with her phone number into the fire. Yes, his life was also schematic, no matter how much he refused to admit it. Maybe it was supposed to be like that. Perhaps it was impossible to avoid routine. Maybe it was meant for everyone. Penalty for sins.

He walked quietly along the sidewalk of one of the more crowded streets of the city, taking advantage of the free day. At one of the intersections there was a small cafe, which he liked to come to sometimes. Sometimes, because he didn't wanted to be considered regular customer. Especially because the waitresses had very obvious weakness for him and tried to talk to him. With poor results. If he had a good mood, maybe he would just smile at them charmingly and try to pull on the friendship. The waitresses were quite attractive. And very young. That was the main problem. He didn't wanted to get involved in acquaintance with the youngsters, so he quickly placed his order, spent fifteen minutes in the cafe and left.

He liked to watch people. Over the years, he gained an invaluable ability to analyze them. He could say a lot about their life after only a few seconds of acquaintance, based on the quality and origin of their clothes, their hair, the type of worn - or not - jewelery. It helped him at work. And gave a bit of satisfaction because he felt above the rest. Though he still, paradoxically, hated himself.

Usually, however, people were boring for him. Like ordinary tools, losing half of their value after the first use. He stared dispassionately at the faces he passed. He combed his hair carefully and stroked his beard, fixing his gaze at the woman walking in front of him. She was around 5'7" feet tall, her hair were a patchwork of chaotic blond tones that reached her back, she wore an ordinary gray hooded blouse with dark stripes and black pants. She slouched slightly, her hands tucked in her pockets, until she slowly reached out her right hand, revealing pale skin and long, thin fingers. Nothing interesting, nothing new. He suspected that if a mysterious person turned to face him, he would see the young face of an ordinary woman with typical complexes. That's why he stopped focusing on her and just looked at her back without any remains of interest.

And at that moment, in which he decided to still look at her, and not look somewhere else, he sealed his fate. Unconsciously. He couldn't know it, not at this point.

But he saw something that caught his attention. The slender, pale fingers of the woman in the learned reflex brushed the back pocket of the man she just passed and flawlessly pulled out his wallet. The girl did so with such caution, and at the same time so quickly that she undoubtedly had to do it often. That intrigued him. He looked at her, walking at a safe distance, letting other people stand between him and the woman. He didn't lose sight of her. After pulling out the wallet, she turned her head slightly to look back. He saw a medium-sized nose with a small hump, a pretty lips of light pink color and a well-defined jaw. After a short while, she looked ahead again, then turned into a side street. John wondered for a moment if this situation was worth his attention. In the end, however, he made the decision and turned after the girl, making sure that he did it at the right time. The street was quite narrow, with little light access. A typical dark, dead end. The only way the woman could take was to turn left again. In this way, she would make a safe lap around the main street and again found herself in the city center, disappearing forever among the crowd. And indeed, he was right. The mysterious girl turned left. And she was waiting for him just around the corner.

 _\- Enjoyed the show? -_ She asked coldly, looking at him with bright, dark brown eyes. She knew that he was watching her, she had to notice it. Clever girl. At least now he had the opportunity to look at her closely. She was no more than twenty-four years old for sure. That would make her four years younger than him, assuming that his guesses were true. She didn't wear any makeup. However, she had jewelry in the form of a golden dragon, clinging to her right ear. Ordinary, but still pretty girl. John rated her as solid six and a half on a scale of ten.

 _\- A well-taught art of pickpocketing. I'm impressed. -_ He replied with a delicate, somewhat mocking smile. He stood close to her to make sure she didn't escape. In the meantime, he analyzed possible ways out of this situation inside his head and what he could gain and what he had to lose.

 _\- You haven't seen much in life, since a simple street trick makes an impression on you. -_ Her voice was a bit low, slightly hoarse, but still undoubtedly typically feminine. Her accent, however, was something that caught his attention. It sounded quite British, but it also had a very subtle, almost imperceptible note of something else. Could it be Russian?

 _\- I can appreciate any kind of art, as long as it still makes sense. This time however I am more interested in what is the prop of this performance, rather than in the spectacle itself. -_ He replied, casting a look at the pocket of the girl in which the stolen wallet was located.

 _\- Oh, I see. You are a typical, lawful citizen of this country who will not allow any evil acts of theft._

 _\- You judge people very rashly._

 _\- "Judge" is an interesting choice of a word. -_ She said enigmatically. - _But be so kind and don't waste my time anymore, just do what you want and get out of my sight._

\- _What do you need this money for? For medicines for a sick mother? For alcohol? For the repayment of debts at the local gangster? -_ He asked with a hint of mockery, but nevertheless his light blue eyes were full of seriousness.

 _\- And why the fuck do you care? -_ The woman's voice did not change. All the time, despite the aggression in the choice of words, it sounded extremely calm, even somewhat sleepy. It sounded like she was asking what time it was. Her eyelids were slightly narrowed, as if from boredom or resignation.

 _\- Because maybe I will decide to ignore what I saw and just go my own way._

 _\- Just so? It doesn't sound like a lawyer's way of acting._

This statement completely surprised him. He parted his lips a bit, while a smile of satisfaction and amusement was slowly forming on the face of a stranger. The blond-haired woman nodded slightly, never taking her eyes off the man.

 _\- Suprised? You shouldn't be. You aren't the only one familiar with this city and its people. As you've surely noticed, it wasn't the first time I pulled something out of someone's pocket. So, I was probably standing several times on the verge of potential arrest. And to avoid this, you need to have contacts and knowledge about the city in which you are. It's worth knowing how many big fish are there to watch out for. And Atlanta is actually quite a small pond, so it's easy to find them._

 _\- So you know who I am._

 _\- Yeah, I know. So answer me honestly - you really think that I would believe in a fairy tale called "I saw the theft, but let the thief run away"?_

 _\- Oh, I see you don't know me very well, though._

 _\- And I don't really want to. So I will go back to the original topic - do what you want and don't waste my time. I don't have too much of it…_

 _\- … And you certainly don't want to waste it on me. I catched your meaning. In that case, I will make it clear. You can give me back this wallet and I will do with it what I think is appropriate, but_ _it will not necessarily be conducive to you._ _Or I'll let you have it, but in return you'll tell me where I will be able to find you._

It was her turn to be surprised, which he could now enjoy. He smiled subtly, disconcertingly, waiting for her answer, but not hurrying her. He saw that the woman was thinking, analyzing. He let her take her time.

 _\- What could you possibly need from me? Did the spectacle interested you more than a prop, after all? -_ She asked, and there was a sharp, warning note in her bored voice. As if she decided to gave him a chance to change his mind and withdraw. But John was not going to back down. It was not in his nature.

 _\- If you steal people's wallets, that clearly means you don't complain about the excess of money in your own. It is possible that I would find a suitable job for you. Fitting into your... Doubtful moral framework, and at the same time much more beneficial. For both sides, of course._

 _\- And if I won't agree…_

 _\- You're going to be in custody. For long, very long. Not only you have contacts in this city, my dear._ _I dare say that mine far outweighs your in terms of quality._

 _\- This is blackmail. -_ She said weakly.

 _\- And you're a thief who, I'm almost sure, has something on the conscience outside of pickpocketing. Something much more serious, perhaps more serious than blackmail. Am I right? -_ He asked rhetorically, with confidence, looking at the woman with satisfaction and superiority. Yes, he had an advantage over her and was using it. He had the opportunity to slightly change his life, so why not? After all, not every woman that he knew had to end her journey in his bed. Although he wouldn't have complained about such an ending. He looked at her, he saw in her brown eyes anxiety and hesitation. She lost her confidence. At that moment, instead of looking at the wild jaguar, he had a docile cat in front of him.

 _\- Go fuck yourself. -_ She replied irritably, trying to slip away. But he grabbed her wrist, firmly, not letting her make any move.

 _\- If you wish, I will do it very gladly. But first - your address. I strongly suggest that you give the correct one. Same with your name._

She hesitated again, looking at him carefully. She took a nervous, deep breath. He saw that she was clenching her teeth and would gladly drive them into his neck if only she could.

 _\- 28A Ventura Street. -_ She finally answered, dry, gnawing her lip delicately and letting her eyes down for a moment.

 _\- Perfect. That wasn't so hard, was it? Now, your name._

 _\- Irina. Irina Carter._

 _\- Russian name, Irish surname, accent that is clearly British but still has very delicate bits of Russian in it. You must have an interesting past, truly._

 _\- It depends on the point of view. That's all?_

 _\- Yes. You can go now, and I will go fuck myself just like you asked. I will contact with you soon. -_ He said with a broad smile, not necessarily suggesting something positive, then he let go of the girl's wrist and left her alone without looking back. Irina swore quietly, then waited a moment and also left the narrow, dark street, entering the city centre once again. She looked around, not only looking for John, but also her recent victim, who probably already knew he had been robbed. The gray-haired man, however, was nowhere to be found, just like an elegant, vile lawyer.

 _\- You're fucker, Duncan. -_ She murmured to herself and walked along the avenue full of various clothing stores, banks and restaurants. Atlanta was a typical city. Full of life, but at the same time quite ordinary, nothing that could stand out from other American cities. It was not overcrowded, like New York or Los Angeles. Just right for someone like her. Although, despite this, the woman did not feel well in her current situation. The mysterious, strange and from her point of view somewhat stupid arrangement with Duncan definitely didn't improve her humor. She tried, however, not to think about it, although in reality nothing else bothered her now as much as that damn meeting with him. To think that she could avoid all this if she was in a different place and time. Meanwhile, fate decided to mock her. She had the impression that John was sent down for her as a punishment for all her life mistakes and crimes. She could have avoided the authorities for some time, but in the end the heavens decided to take matters into their own hands.

 _\- Yeah, right. Bullshit. -_ She whispered. She didn't believe in God, or any kind of higher, supernatural power. Everything was either a coincidence or it was a man that chose his own destiny. For her religions were nothing more than a man's invention, so that he could somehow justify his inability to answer some of the questions that have plagued humanity for centuries. Or just to be able to explain his failures somehow.

The deliberations took her quite a long time, to the extent that she didn't realize when she stood at the doorstep of her apartment. A typical, rather recently built apartment building. Her flat was the smallest of all that were in it, but it didn't bother her. Less space for cleaning, fewer problems, less mess. She lived alone, so she didn't need anything more. She closed the door behind her and almost fell limply on the black leather couch, turning on the television. She rarely did it, actually almost didn't use the device at all, but on the other hand, the news could sometimes convey valuable information. Even if they were misrepresented in the vast majority. Irina extremely despised the media, as well as broadly understood politics.

 _"This morning the director of the Atlanta bank Michael Abbot issued an official statement about the disappearance of his twenty-year-old daughter, Clare..."_

Irina looked at the television screen, where a picture of a red-haired girl was shown, not much younger than her. She swallowed hard, glancing at her phone for a moment, which she threw casually on the table just a few moments ago.

 _"Not much is known about the case, but there are suspicions that the girl may have been kidnapped..."_

Blonde haired woman rose lazily from the couch and went to the fridge, from which she took out a half-empty bottle of whiskey. She poured a little liquor into her glass, slowly sipping the warming liquid, still listening to the reporter's voice echoing through the loudspeakers, focusing her eyes on the scratched, gray kitchen counter. After a few long minutes of thinking, she put down the empty glass and went back to the couch, reaching for the phone lying on the table. She turned off the television, expressing no interest in the latest news regarding the assault on the local store. She unlocked the phone's screen, then chose a specific number from her narrow list of contacts. The person on the other side didn't hurry with the response, as usually waiting almost to the very end.

 _\- Yes? -_ Finally, the man picked up the receiver and was kind enough to speak, at the exact moment when Irina wanted to send a bunch of curses to him and throw the phone back on the table.

 _\- Frank, I'm going to finally use the favor you owe me._ _And give it priority status._

 _\- I missed your hoarse, unhappy voice. But it's true, I owe it to you. Whatever you say will be yours in no more than twenty four hours. -_ He said proudly.

 _\- Reduce waiting time to twelve hours. This is an extreme priority._

 _\- Mother of god, w_ _hat have you got into again, girl?_

 _\- Top secret. Now, send me everything you have in the database about John Duncan._

After hearing this name, Frank froze. Irina tapped her middle-length nails on the table. She wanted to make it as loud as possible. She wanted the man to be able to hear it, to know that the time is running.

 _\- I do not know if I'll make it in twelve hours, Irina. Getting into data on random thieves from your happy thieves' association is one thing, but getting information about lawyers that are on the top of the food chain is another._

 _-_ _Twelve hours. If you make it in six, I can arrange a week's trip for your wife, so that you can wander the brothels without fear._

 _\- ... Consider it done, my friend._

* * *

 _\- Irina Carter. Probably Russian, or having some connections with the Russians. She's about 24 or 25 years old. Blonde hair, dark eyes. About 5'7" feet tall._

 _\- You name it, John. I will give priority status to this matter. What exactly do you want to know about her?_

 _\- Everything, Frank. Everything._

 _\- Consider it done, my friend._


	2. One Good Lie (Past) - 2

The man welcomed himself on his bed, on which four people could fit easily. It was like that several times. Once he even managed to push six people into this bed. He took a slow breath, passing his hand over the dark, perfectly stylized beard. The mysterious girl was in his memory all the time. There was something wrong with her, something strange. And because John was particularly fond of this type of riddle, he decided to get involved in this one as well. It worked well on the mind. Thanks to this, his didn't fall into lethargy, always stayed sharp.

He turned his head to look at his watch. It was not so late, so he could invite somebody to accompany him. Not that any hour was bad. It happened that he would bring women to his house at three in the morning. He decided, however, to spend this particular night alone. He reached into his pants with his hand, pulling off the leather strap and unbuttoning them.

He was told to go fuck himself, after all.

* * *

The first hours were extremely nervous for her. Irina looked discreetly out of the window, looking for an unknown car, almost certainly from a higher shelf. She knew enough about Duncan, at least so far. A lawyer so effective that he probably sleeps in silk bedding, masturbating with banknotes. She wouldn't be surprised if towels, tissues and toilet paper were made of them, too.

Seven hours passed, the sun disappeared behind the skyline of skyscrapers. Nothing suspicious had happened, however. During the whole time young woman practically didn't part with a glass of her beloved drink. She was feeling dizzy now, and the heat spreading over her throat and belly began to scald awfully. Finally, she put the glass down, peeking through the window once more, then went into the small bedroom, pulling off her shirt and throwing herself on the bed. She didn't manage to pull her pants off - she fell asleep almost immediately, with one leg falling from the edge of the bed and storm of blond hair spread out on the sheets.

Less than forty minutes later a new message appeared in her mailbox.

* * *

John sat comfortably on his couch, with his laptop on his lap, his feet resting on the glass table top. Next to them was his phone, five hundred-dollar bills and a white powder curled in a tight line. The last dose of cocaine he had left. Replenishing stocks was particularly onerous. If someone openly caught him buying a drug, his reputation would definitely suffer. He didn't care that he was taking drugs with women, with whom he later spent the night. They couldn't do much to him. He could silence them. But some ordinary man on the street with whom he had never had to deal, or how to prove to him how dangerous a man John Duncan could be - that would be a hell of a problem.

The man opened the mailbox. The message he had been waiting for had reached him just over an hour earlier. He smiled involuntarily, with obvious satisfaction.

 _\- Nice reaction time, Frank. -_ He murmured to himself, then opened the message. The large file contained in it was encrypted in several ways. But John didn't struck a deal with Frank for the first time, so he exactly knew the procedure for opening such a file. It took him no more than seven minutes at this point. Once he did open it, there were a few nice walls of text and lots of photos on the screen. Some nine or eight years old, when his target was still a teenager.

 _\- You started early, hmm? Let's see..._

The information collected about Carter was like a promise of a great fun to him. Although he had a piece of paper and a pen next to him, he didn't even reach for it, not even once.

Because John Duncan had an excellent memory.

* * *

When she woke up, she wanted to break her head into small pieces. She coughed, which only made the pain worse. Her eyes were open minimally, afraid of the morning light. She sat on the edge of her bed, from which she miraculously didn't fall during the night, rubbing her forehead with her hand. She swayed lightly, as if she could not decide whether she should get up and take something for this goddamn headache, or maybe going back to bed would be a better and more pleasant option. She chose the first one, although she did so with such reluctance and resignation, as if instead of going to the bathroom she was led to the scaffold for an execution. With a slightly numb hand, she opened the cabinet and pulled out one of the loosely scattered white tablets, putting it into her mouth and drinking greedily from the water tap like a thirsty cat. Although there was a glass next to the sink, which had been a constant element of the bathroom decor for nearly a year, the woman didn't want to reach for it.

She washed her face with water, then looked at her reflection in the mirror. She looked at least five years older at that moment. The right ear on which the gold dragon was clinging was all red. She had to fall asleep on this side of the body. For now, her ear didn't hurt. Yet. She knew that the pain would decide to attack in several minutes. It wasn't the first time it happened to her.

She left the bathroom, staggering, then sprawled out on the couch. She rubbed her eyes, then looked more closely at the screen of her laptop, which she left on all night. At first, the text on the screen was just one smudged patch. Only after a few long moments did it begin to make sense. She saw her mailbox, the topics of old messages. One of them, at the very top, was written in bold. She had to strain her eyes even further to carefully analyze the meaning of the text.

 **Frank Wilson** : **Someone called a lawyer?** _Yesterday, 21:18_

She woke up almost immediately, opening her eyes wide. This involved another attack of pain, but she gritted her teeth and placed the laptop on her thighs, resting comfortably on the back of the couch. The file in the message was encrypted, but it wasn't a problem. Not for her. Kind-of friendship with Frank has often saved her skin. It took her no more than five minutes to open the encrypted file, mainly because the strongest security was broken by Frank already, leaving Irina only the basic, the simplest, not a big challenge for someone with experience and a basic skills package. She opened the file and saw huge amount of text and pictures.

Defining the information contained in the file as interesting would be a scandalous understatement.

* * *

It took her about five and a half hours to squeeze through dozens of layers of encrypted files. She didn't leave the laptop even once, even for a minute. She felt a terrible scratching in her throat that was demanding some drink that could quench her thirst. Irina, however, was too concerned about what she saw. When she finished, she made sure that the file had been properly secured before closing it and hiding it in the deepest depths of the disk. She turned off the device, straightening her aching legs and picking up a lot of pages from the sofa and the floor, on which she wrote out important information about Duncan. And there were a lot of them worth remembering.

She went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. There was not much food in it, but it wasn't interesting for woman at this moment anyway, because she was once again torn between one of hers typical life choices - water or alcohol. Recalling, however, about the morning headache she chose the first, after a while enjoying the coolness of the crystal clear liquid.

And then she heard the buzzing of her phone. It wasn't anything particularly surprising, so she calmly put the glass on the kitchen counter and returned to the living room, almost automatically pressing the green receiver. And at that moment, she wanted to shoot herself in the head - her eyes caught the number displayed on the screen a fraction of a second before answering the call. A number that she had never seen before. She didn't receive calls from random, unknown people, so in her head the red light went off immediately.

 _\- Aaaah, I was afraid that you wouldn't pick up. But that wouldn't be good for our deal, and you're a sensible girl, aren't you?_

The red light had just evolved into a huge, blood red neon. The girl opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but she made only a short, single sound, reminiscent of the radio jam.

 _\- What the hell... -_ She asked with her typical, sleepy and husky voice, wondering.

 _\- Come on, you don't really think that getting your phone number was a problem? Especially since you gave me your name and address. By the way, they turned out to be true, for which I thank you very much. I value honesty in people, it's a rare feature. Now, tell me,_ _are you busy at the moment?_

John's voice was calm, pleasant to the ear, but at the same time extremely disturbing. As if there was something the man didn't talk about, but his hidden intentions were betrayed by vocal cords. Of course he had something in the back of his head, Irina was sure. The worst thing was that she had no idea what to expect. The file in which nearly all possible information about Duncan was contained didn't contain a way to read his mind.

 _\- It depends on the point of view..._

 _\- So, you're not! That's great._

 _\- W-Wait, I said that-_

 _\- You said that either you're busy or not depends on the point of view. From mine, you're not busy at all. So, let's get straight to the point. Go outside, I'm waiting for you there. Ah, and don't forget about the keys to your apartment. People sometimes forget about it and leave it open, and then they are extremely surprised that someone came to their home as if it was their own. And that they used their goods as such._

 _\- God, do you even shut up..._

 _\- That's not my name, but I'm flattered anyway. Now please, do as you're told._ _Otherwise I will punish you for the sin of lateness. -_ She could hear his mocking smile and had an uncanny urge to hit him in the face and knock out his perfect white teeth. If she could do it over the phone, she would not hesitate. She hung up, grabbed the keys to the apartment and left it, closing it. In the meantime, she managed to renew her dictionary of curses. She quickly found herself outside, practically leaping down from the stairs and stopped, looking for a lawyer's familiar figure. She didn't have to - he spotted her first, leaning nonchalantly on black Ford Mustang. He greeted her with a wide smile, that sended a chill down her spine.

 _\- Well, here you are. Although you should learn that hanging up without a word is extremely unkind._

 _\- Yeah, same with a fucking blackmailing someone._

 _-_ _Remember that in terms of pointing the guilty one, I have the high ground. Now come on, I'll take you for a ride. We have something to discuss. -_ He said and peeled off the car's bodywork, going to the other side and attempting to get inside.

 _\- Couldn't we talk about it over the phone? Or even here and now?_

 _\- No. And I think you know why. You're quite smart, after all._

She sighed in resignation and slowly entered the car, clearly hesitating. She tried to slightly increase her sense of security and keep one leg out of the door, leaving it a bit ajar at the same time. Of course, it didn't work out.

 _\- Close the door. Please._

She did it. Nearly. She pretended to close the door, but in reality she still left them slightly open - so slightly he had really small chances to notice. But, of course, he noticed. Without a problem.

 _\- Don't try to trick me, girl._

She closed the door, this time for real and swore under her breath.

 _\- If you try to touch me in any way..._

 _\- Are you warning me because you already have some experience with being with a kind-of-stranger in the car, or have you just seen too many movies?_

She didn't answer, just gave him an icy look.

 _\- Aaaah, if the eyes could kill. Calm down, I was just asking. Now, let's go._

John started the engine. The Mustang reacted quickly, roaring like a wild lion, then moved forward. Duncan left the parking lot, throwing an intrigued look at the nearby pearl-white McLaren P1. Carter was observing the man so of course, noticed it, but she didn't give the car a moment's attention. John looked at her briefly.

 _\- I said that I can appreciate art in any form. Cars also fall into this category._

 _\- I do not judge. I fully understand that._

 _\- Still, you haven't been interested in this particular one._

 _\- I see it every day. Inside also._

He, of course, knew it. The file containing information about the woman was also about her car. Of course, also about registration, although it was not very needed. There were not many McLarens in Atlanta. Not to mention this particular model, in this particular color. He knew where she had the car from, from when she had it and what was special about it, which the cars of ordinary, gray civilians didn't have. And he knew why.

 _\- I see. So, let's start our discussion with basic acquaintance. Where were you born?_

 _\- And why would you be interested in THAT?_

 _\- Pure curiosity. Answer, please._

She didn't want to answer him, but something in his voice suggested that resist was not a good idea. She knew that she was dealing with a dangerous man. So she decided not to take such a risk, especially since he really had an advantage over her. In every aspect.

 _\- Ivanovo. In Russia._

Liar, liar, liar. John smiled almost imperceptibly, but said nothing. He decided to let her wander into lies.

 _\- Who your parents are, or were?_

 _\- Mother was Russian painter, father worked in British SAS._

 _\- Which regiment?_

 _\- 22nd._

Well, that was actually true, John thought. He wondered why she had decided to lie about her place of birth, but she talked about her parents without any kind hesitation, and was speaking pure truth. What was the point?

 _\- And how old are you?_

 _\- You've managed to get my phone number, and it's not that easy. So I suspect you've also got to my age._

 _\- Why would I waste my time on something that I can hear from you?_

 _\- I'm twenty four. Are you happy now?_

 _\- I'm happy all the time. -_ He chuckled _\- Alright, it will do. For now. Let's get to the most important matter. Which is your new job._

 _\- Yeah, the one I never wanted in the first place._

 _-_ _I give you the opportunity to earn a good income. Very good. Which means no more pulling out other people's wallets._

 _\- And what you could have possibly from it?_

 _\- That's what I'm getting to. I want you to get some valuable packages for me from time to time. Quietly. And then brought it to me without any delay._

 _\- You want me to be your private courier? -_ She asked in disbelief. Why the hell would he do such a thing? This guy had so much money that he probably had pillows made of them, so he could take care of getting these packages in a much simpler and safer way than giving such a task to a random woman met on the street. Not to mention the circumstances of that meeting.

 _\- Would you mind?_

 _\- Hmm, quite so, yes._

 _\- Tell me why._

 _\- Because it doesn't made fucking sense._

 _\- Not everything has to._

 _\- What is going on in your head, lawyer? What do you REALLY want?_

 _\- Those packages have a great value to me. So don't ask any more questions. Understand?_

 _\- No, not really._

 _\- That isn't a problem, you will. Here you have details about what, where, when and how. -_ He said, giving her a white, sealed envelope. The woman took it in her fingers, also accidentaly brushing John's counterparts. It seemed, however, that he didn't notice it or didn't pay attention.

 _\- So be it. But I'm not going to do it for the rest of my life. Since you've called it a deal before, so be it. Deal with time limit. I will work for you for two months and then you leave me the fuck alone._

She was walking on the thin ice and she knew it. But she didn't intend to bow to him. She wanted him to know that he could threaten her, but she would never be his little cat. John stopped the car at traffic lights, that were illuminating his face with a light red and looked at Irina. She felt his blue irises pierce through her, but she could stand it. Carter didn't look away.

 _\- Careful now, girl. -_ He said in a quiet, vibrating voice. _\- You are not the one dictating the conditions._

 _\- Two months._

He didn't take his eyes off her. He waited. He gave her the opportunity to retreat, but she didn't take it. Duncan smiled almost imperceptibly, as if in apprecation, but after a moment the smile disappeared.

 _\- Deal._


	3. One Good Lie (Past) - 3

John dropped her right by her house, for which she was grateful. Although she wouldn't ever admit it. The second part of the ride passed in terrible silence. _Deal._ The last words she heard from him before she shook his hand, which he took off the steering wheel. With a slight hesitation, she went for it. The lawyer's grip was firm, but strangely delicate. As if he was afraid that he would accidentally crush bones in her fingers. His hand was warm, which was creating an almost poetic contrast with Irina's always cold skin. She looked straight into his eyes for a few seconds and for a moment she lost her concentration. She caught it only when the weave of their hands has been finally broken.

She left his car without a word, though she could feel his eyes on her, observing her until she disappeared in the depths of the stairwell. She sighed with relief, though her nerves were on the edge. The envelope received from Duncan that was held in her hand was squeezed so tightly that she felt the crumpled paper inside of it. Her hands were shaking, which caused a lot of problems when opening the lock to her apartment. The key that almost slipped from her hand lived its own life, dancing maliciously around its destination, not intending to finally calm down and fulfill its task.

 _\- Ah, for fuck's sake! -_ She cursed under her breath, thus receiving a puzzled look from a man who just walked to the door of his apartment on the other side of the corridor and opened it in the blink of an eye. She didn't say anything anymore, instead she took a deep breath and finally managed to get in, slamming the door behind her. She furiously threw the envelope on the table, pulling off her blouse and quickly going up to the fridge, pulling out an almost empty bottle of whiskey. She wasn't interested in the fact that she usually woke up with a hangover after that. She needed the kind of freedom that headache brought her. However strange it sounded. However fucked up it was.

When she finally took the first sip of a strong drink, she simply slumped slowly onto the kitchen floor, resting her head on the fridge. She squeezed the glass tightly so as not to let it drop. And she didn't drop it even when she fell asleep, her head miraculously not striking against the cold floor.

* * *

John made a sound of contentment, then sniffed the last dose of cocaine that he had. His pupils widened momentarily, and his muscles relaxed. Lying behind him on the couch was a completely naked woman, that stroked his back with her fingers, folding gentle kisses along the line of his right thigh. It seemed as if she was demanding attention from him in this way, but the man didn't return the affection. He didn't feel such a need, although he wanted to need it in the depths of his soul. Above all, he wanted this woman to be... Someone else. Then he would be able to afford more. However, the concrete one who was now fond of him like a cat was worthless. Her hair, although bright, was too short. Eyes, though dark, had too much green and too little bronze. The nose was too perfect, the lips too wide. And breasts - way too big. He didn't know why he didn't like all of it. Usually, he valued such women the most. He liked to look at that type the most. But that evening everything seemed to be... Out of place. He wanted something else. He knew what, but he didn't want to admit it to himself. His **_PRIDE_** forbade him. It was fighting with **_GREED._**

The view of the phone's brightened screen wrenched him out of meditation. He silenced it two hours ago, not wanting it to disturb him. Therefore, in the first reflex, he ignored the connection. It was only when the phone called the second time that he picked it up.

 _\- I said that I'm not available this evening, didn't I? -_ He asked rhetorically with irritation in his voice, ignoring the woman behind him who was seeking his attention all the time. Her imperfection began to annoy him. She wasn't what he wanted. She was just a toy for a few minutes, which ceased to give entertainment right after the first use.

 _\- Please forgive me, Mr. Duncan, but you have a client. He said it was urgent and asked for contact with you as soon as possible. -_ The secretary on the other side of the phone sounded slightly ashamed and apologetic, as if she knew perfectly well in what situation she found her employer. John growled softly, then rubbed his forehead with the wet hand he had recently held on the inside of his warm thigh.

\- _Send me his contact details. I'll call him tomorrow. -_ He answered, then hung up, hearing the farewell _"I shall do so, Mr. Duncan"_ and put the phone down on the counter, sighing heavily. He didn't intend to rush with a call to a potential client. If he really needed the help of this particular lawyer, he would be able to wait a dozen or so hours of waiting. If not... Well, it would mean he wasn't worth of John's time anyway.

The man put his hand between the shoulder blades of the woman behind him, not looking at her at all. He felt that he was simply wasting his time. His mind was in a completely different place and didn't take into account the presence of the imperfect - at least for him - girl, who apparently sensed that she couldn't count on anything more and just fell asleep, deciding not to tire or distract the man any longer.

And for that he was grateful.

* * *

She was riding slowly through the streets of Atlanta. The city was just beginning to come alive and it was full of life, actually. In the evening, teenagers were leaving their homes for parties and adults were returning from work. Irina was holding the steering wheel in her left hand, while her right was only leaning against it, squeezing the paper from the John's envelope in its fingers.

She parked the car in a small parking lot, closing the door carefully behind her. She had to squish her eyes in which the neon light advertising the liquor store shone intensely. She put away a piece of paper in her pants pocket, along her car keys, ignoring the curious looks of two men standing nearby. More interested, fortunately, in her car than she herself. She started began to walk along the wet sidewalk leading down the street. She walked carefully, not so much for fear of slipping, but because of a strange sensation that she was being watched. It had accompanied her since the day she had unbelievable misfortune and stumbled upon John Duncan, who forced her to play his own game, the rules of which nobody knew except himself.

She turned into a side street with which she didn't have good memories. Nevertheless, this was demanded by the content contained within the envelope. The woman immediately became alert, reflexively and discreetly reaching into the inner pocket of her black-leather jacket.

 _\- It won't be necessary, girl. -_ The voice came from her right, where only a few meters away was a blond-haired man with eyes so intensely green that they could be seen perfectly in spite of the darkness prevailing in the alley. _\- I don't shoot at my clients. Or rather, their couriers, because they usually don't come in person. You understand, high-ranking people prefer not to take such a risk._

Irina stared at him suspiciously, but she let her hand rest quietly along her side, and walked a few steps closer to the man. His face was quite handsome, if you not to count the scar from the knife that distorted his left cheek and thin lips.

 _\- You know why I am here, as I presume. -_ She said, clearing her throat quietly. Her voice became even more hoarse from the last fun she had with whiskey. And because she didn't make any sound in the last eight hours.

 _\- Of course. I know everything. -_ He replied enigmatically, with a slight smile, macabrely distorted by the scar. _\- Here's what you came for. Properly hidden, in case any... Complications appear. It never happened, but you never know. Caution doesn't hurt and usually doesn't kill either. -_ He added, giving the girl something that looked like an ordinary letter. With stamp and address of the sender and recipient on the respective pages. Carter was not sure if it was such a good way to hide the cocaine, but didn't say anything. She just wanted to get rid of this package as soon as possible. She took the envelope in her hand, hidden behind the leather glove for matter of safety and put it in her pocket.

 _\- I'm guessing that's all. Money has been reportedly already provided to you by... -_ She paused, unsure of how to say what she wanted to say.

 _\- ... Another John's puppet? -_ He finished the sentence for her and smiled surprisingly gently, as if with understanding. _\- Don't worry about your current situation, girl. He won't keep you for eternity, sooner or later he gets rid of his minions. You're not the first one, and surely not the last._

 _\- I hope you don't mean permanent elimination. -_ She murmured with reluctance and mock nonchalance, though she was actually listening to the man now more carefully than ever. It was at this particular moment that she realized that in this sick Duncan's game, her life might be at stake. The man answered her with another smile and almost imperceptible shaking of his head.

 _\- No, definitely not. John isn't playing the gangster. He's a lawyer, however it may seem insignificant and weird, he really is. Cocaine, women... Well, nobody is perfect. Everyone has some weaknesses. People placed higher and with more digits on the account than the rest of the society can simply afford to fulfill their desires. -_ He shrugged his shoulders and leaned against the brick wall, looking at the woman with interest, although it felt that it was not - fortunately - sexually marked. Despite this, Irina felt uncomfortable, so she turned slowly on her heel and nodded to the man with a goodbye.

 _\- If that's all, I'll go now. -_ She murmured, going her way. She wanted to give John a letter with valuable content as soon as possible, because it also involved the possibility of a quick homecoming. And longer, though surely not peaceful sleep.

 _\- Take care of yourself, girl. I have faith in you. -_ He replied, watching her, but Carter didn't turn to face him anymore. Instead, she quickly returned to her car, taking a deep breath and hurried off as soon as possible, was driving to the next address on her list, pressing the gas pedal more aggressively than ever before. Relief that accompanied her was a rare blessing. Coming to pick up the package, she was worried about the worst, while the gun hidden in the inside pocket of her jacket proved to be unnecessary. And she was very, very grateful for that.

* * *

John's apartment was in the richer part of the city - not that it was surprising in any way. Although the woman lived almost at the other end of Atlanta, she came to the right address without much difficulty, stopping the car and glancing up. It was extremely late, but the light on the last floor was shining brightly. At least one fairly good news. After a few minutes, she finally gathered her courage and left the car, dialing the number on the intercom. The answer was almost immediate and soon the woman was climbing the stairs to the last, fourth floor. She could call the elevator, but she didn't like them too much, so she chose a safer, though much more tiring option. And she couldn't deny it - the staircase was exceptionally elegant. Well, those were the charms of rich neighborhoods and rich apartment buildings, after all. The gray floor literally shone and Carter could see her reflexion like in the cleanest mirror. The windows were gigantic, it looked almost like the walls were made of nothing but glass. The ceiling was pure white, its shade so clean that even the snow would be jealous of it.

Finally, she climbed to the top floor to find John leaning nonchalantly on the doorstep. She came up to him, letting herself inhale and exhale deeply, then without a word she gave him a letter that was not a letter at all. However, he didn't take it, didn't even look at it. Instead, he was looking at her. Carefully, but softly at the same time. He extended his hand to her, but he didn't take the envelope. Instead, he brushed an unruly strand of blond hair from her face, twisting it in his fingers for a moment, thoughtfully. She felt strange, but said nothing. She stared at him with an expectant look, as if she wanted to force him to take the letter so that she could leave in peace. But John wasn't in a hurry at all. He took the letter slowly and gently and for a moment leaned out of the door, probably putting a valuable package down on the table somewhere near the door. Irina wanted to take the opportunity to turn around and leave, but she didn't make it. The lawyer stopped her with a firm gesture that ordered no sudden movements. And for some strange reason she immediately obeyed the order, like an obedient dog. She hated herself for it, but still didn't say a word. Waiting for his move, whatever it may be. The truth was that the woman had no idea what to say. That's why she chose silence, which seemed the most wise to her in the current situation.

- _You alright? -_ He asked, finally breaking the silence, staring at her with those goddamn blue eyes of his. She hated them. She was _afraid_ of them.

 _\- Yeah. Can I go now? -_ She countered, closing her eyelids slightly. Tiredness took over her and she didn't intend to hide it. On the contrary, she was showing this, hoping to talk some sense into Duncan somehow, so he would let her go. He, of course, saw her fatigue. John wasn't blind, after all. But he apparently ignored it.

 _\- You want to get behind the wheel in this state? You're almost unconscious. -_ So he saw how she felt. And he was not so much as ignoring this fact, but actually tried in a twisted way to use it in his favor. Which Carter didn't like at all.

 _\- I was driving a car in worse conditions. -_ She replied simply, not taking her eyes off him. It was out of pure caution and vigilance.

 _\- Don't you want to go inside? -_ He suggested, opening the door a little wider in what looked like an invitation. And although reason told a tired woman to take advantage of the offer, her persistence and a kind of anxiety strongly prohibited it.

 _\- No, thanks. I just want to go home. And the sooner I get into the car, the sooner I get back._

 _\- You sure?_

 _\- Yeah,_ _I'm twenty-four years old so I can make decisions. -_ She replied with little bit of irritation. She felt like a child. And the vision of having John as her father definitely rejected her, so she had another reason to evacuate from this place.

 _\- As you wish. -_ He murmured, then reached into the pocket of his shirt, pulling out six hundred dollars, which he counted with one quick movement of his hand. He gave the money to the surprised girl, and the sight of that emotion on her face made John smile.

 _\- Here you go. Just don't spend it on anything stupid. -_ He added and chuckled softly. Irina couldn't stop the mocking smile that slowly rose on her lips.

 _\- Said a man whom I just brought a packet of cocaine. Which costs about seventy dollars for one gram. -_ John raised his eyebrows slightly, then clicked his tongue. He nodded toward the stairs behind the girl. Irina waited for this gesture of consent long enough, so she immediately moved in that direction without looking back.

 _\- Run away, little lamb. Run, run, run. -_ He said with amusement, then closed the door behind him. At the moment when they quietly clicked, the girl was already on the ground floor and walked towards her car.

* * *

John carefully opened a fake envelope with a letter that didn't exist inside it, taking out a fairly large bag of white, precious powder. He smiled slightly, remembering the girl's words. Yes, cocaine was very expensive and could cost seventy dollars for one gram. This particular one, however, was from an even higher shelf, so its value reached one hundred. But John did'nt have to worry about the costs. He was able to afford such expensive entertainment.

 _\- If you only knew, little one. -_ He whispered to himself, throwing a glance at the screen of his phone. It was black as night, but he knew that it would soon shine brightly. He waited for it patiently, or at least he liked to believe in existence of his patience.

John sprinkled a small dose of cocaine on the table top, forming a narrow shaft with it, then reached for the banknote lying next to it and rolled it into a roll. And at that moment the phone's screen flashed, and the lawyer's hand went quickly towards it.

 _\- She just entered the stairwell, sir. -_ The man's voice was dispassionate, or at least it was meant to be. John, however, heard something in that voice that should not be there.

 _\- ... But?_

 _\- She's not alone._

The man stroked his beard with his hand and frowned. He didn't like it. Something was definitely wrong, something wasn't going according to his plan.

 _\- Who is he? -_ He asked after a while, holding his breath. In the meantime, he quickly searched in his memory for the name of someone who could now be with her there, enter her apartment walking right next to her. But he didn't remembered anyone who was in Atlanta at this moment. And even more so, whom Irina would let in at such a late hour. She has never been in any serious relationship with anyone, according to her file. And most of her acquaintances were outside the United States, anyway.

 _\- It's not "he", sir. It's a woman. Long, brown hair and very pale skin. I didn't saw anything more of importance, though. But... They look as if they were extremely close. And I don't mean family relations, it's rather... Sexual._

John froze, then swore under his breath.

 _\- Jesus Christ..._


	4. One Good Lie (Past) - 4

The brown-haired woman's body was pleasantly warm and soft. The skin obediently buckled under the pressure of Irina's fingers, also causing tremors throughout the body. The girl held one hand on the bedclothes, the other hidden inside a storm of golden hair, moaning softly. The pink lips were parted and slightly swollen, the eyelids concealed her black eyes. Irina wasn't in hurry. She worked slowly, patiently but effectively, stroking the inside of her lover's thighs with the fingers of her right hand. Slowly, gently. She had time. This act allowed her to forget just for a few precious moments. She gave herself fully to what was happening here and now, not wanting to think about her problems at this point. About her life that changed its track through one simple mistake.

The wallet stolen three days earlier was still in the drawer next to her bed. Woman still didn't check its contents, though. In the current situation, with John occupying her thoughts nearly all the time, it seemed unnecessary. Or... She just forgot about it. It wouldn't be the first time when she forgot about something important...

* * *

The weather was awful. The sky was covered with dark, storm clouds, and the whole city was bathed in heavy rain. People, surprised by such a sudden downpour were looking for a way to protect themselves from the rain, or simply trying to get home as fast as possible. Irina, in spite of everything, went in the opposite direction than everyone else. She wasn't going back home. Not entirely of her own will. When John left her a message ordering her an immediate meeting fifteen minutes from her present position, she felt like she was about to throw her phone at the pavement. She refrained, however. She didn't have that much money to buy a new one.

Her only protection against the raging weather was the hood of her blouse, which didn't do it too well anyway. Her long, blond hair literally dripped with water like a wet towel. Drops ran down her eyelashes, nose, mouth and neck. She was shivering from the cold. Although she always prefered when it was cold than when it was warm, she would now give everything for a little sunshine that could dry and warm her freezing body. Her hands were pressed tightly in her pockets, her eyes were directed slightly down. Irina was afraid that any moment she would slip in the middle of the street, in front of everyone. Though she would simply ignore it, get up and move on, the humiliation would take root deep inside her heart.

Finally, she sat on the bench by the bus stop, keeping a distance from the man sitting at the other end. He had sunglasses in front of his eyes, which didn't make any fucking sense considering that the sun was nowhere to be seen.

 _\- Sit closer, I'm not going to try to shout over this goddamn rain. -_ He said snarply, throwing her a glimpse. The girl hissed like an irritated viper, then discreetly moved closer to herim, but careful not to touch the man by accident, even if it were to be just an elbow brush.

 _\- You wouldn't have to do this if you chose a different meeting time. Or even a different place. What the hell were you thinking? -_ She asked sharply, not looking at him at all. People huddled on the opposite bus stop seemed to be a more interesting object for observation than the man which was ruining her life.

 _\- The matter I want to discuss with you requires discretion. And discussing as soon as possible. -_ He explained calmly, sitting almost like a statue, not worrying that under the influence of rain his perfectly arranged hair returned to its original state, which were light waves. Who would have thought that John Duncan, in fact, looks completely different than he likes to present in front of people.

 _\- It seems to me rather like fulfilling child's dreams of working as a secret agent._ \- She grumbled, pulling her hands out of her pockets and trying to squeeze the water out of her hair, which was getting pretty heavy at that point. John turned his head towards her and flashed his white teeth in a smile. _\- I swear that one day I'm not gonna stand it anymore and hit you in the face, knocking out those white cubes of yours._

 _\- There's_ _a lot of aggression in you, is there something you've been upset about? -_ There was clearly amusement and mockery in his voice. Irina clenched her fist, but refrained from striking. She preferred not to make any form of physical contact with him. Moron would probably be happy if she did.

 _\- No, everything is fucking wonderful. Now tell me what you want. Besides destroying my life. -_ Carter spat, no longer having the strength to play word games with him, so she decided to push the meeting forward. The sooner she ends up talking to him, the sooner she will come home.

 _\- Alright then. The wallet you stole. Where is it and what you took from it. -_ Duncan's face suddenly took on a serious expression. Apparently, he decided to end the game and go to the details, for which she was grateful.

 _\- Oh, you woke up now? After three days? -_ She asked, clearly surprised by the unexpected return to the subject of her recent theft.

 _\- No, not me. The owner of the wallet, who is my client. And now I am repeating the question. WHERE is this wallet. What did you DO with it. What did you TAKE from it._

 _-_ _It's in my apartment, all the time. I didn't take anything out of it. Damn, I didn't even open it and I don't know what's inside it. It just so happens that thanks to your awesome intervention I forgot about this damn thing. -_ She responded with boredom, but watched him out of the corner of her eye. He, in turn, gave her all his attention now. And it was obvious that he was deadly serious.

 _\- You must give it to me immediately. There is something valuable inside this damned wallet, which must be returned to the owner. This is a serious matter, so spare me another snappy cut. Get up, let's go. -_ He did as he said and rose from the bench, grabbing the girl's shoulder. She also stood up, shocked and broke free from his grip.

 _\- Wait, wait, wait! First tell me what this is all about. I'm tired of being a pawn in a game that I don't even know the rules for. -_ She protested walking just behind the man who was walking towards her apartment. Only after a moment of astonishment she remembered that John knew very well where she lived. She was surprised, however, that he intended to go on foot. Didn't he have a car anywhere nearby?

 _\- So, follow me and listen, because I will say it only once. In this seemingly ordinary wallet you stole, there was a check worth five hundred thousand dollars. It belongs to the man you took the wallet from, but his brother accused him of stealing this check. And this brother is the director of the Atlanta bank, whose, moreover, daughter has recently gone missing. Daughter which, as far as I know, you know very well. -_ He said maliciously, giving her a contemptuous look. Carter parted her lips in a gesture of silent surprise.

 _\- How the hell..._

 _\- How do I know?_ _I told you that you are not the only one who have contacts in this city. -_ He responded, going extremely fast. Fast even for Irina, who had to almost trot to keep up with him.

 _\- Are you spying on me?!_

 _\- I would prefer the term "watching". Spying sounds more like the way secret organizations work. And I, my dear, am a lawyer, not a secret agent. And no, being him has never been my childhood dream._

 _-_ _It couldn't have been a fucking watch because Clara went missing not long before our first meeting. And last time I saw her was almost a month ago, so someone had to tell you that or you checked my past, you damned liar. -_ She hissed in his direction, no longer trying to hide her rage. John suddenly took his sunglasses out of his eyes, put them in his pocket, and without warning pushed the girl to a side street, painfully clenching his hand on her throat. Irina grabbed his wrist, trying to pull him away, but she had no chance of winning in a clash of strength with a grown man.

 _\- Be careful who you call a liar, Irina. -_ He whispered close to her face, waving her with his warm breath. She looked at him intently but without fear. Rather with irritation and the bloodlust, trying to hide it behind her brown, shiny eyes. The unnatural pressure with which he spoke her name, however, disturbed her. _\- For now, you are the queen of lies. And if you are going to continue to dance in this crown of yours, it will mean breaking our deal. And you will spend the rest of your life in prison, while I will make sure that you will be under constant observation._

 _\- You can't convince anyone that I deserve something like that. I would have to kill somebody so that you would have a good reason to take my freedom away. -_ She replied hoarsely, thrusting her nails into the man's wrist just behind his watch, that was probably worth more than her entire home and its contents put together.

 _\- Oh, one more lie, girl. Come on, go for it. -_ He said with some kind of sick amusement, looking at her like a predator looks at its prey. He seemed to be completely unperturbed by the fact that the nails of the woman were already piercing through his skin. _\- Not only that you are lying, you are also a hypocrite. Not to mention the fact that you can't stand the month of separation with your lover. What was the name of the woman you dragged to your bed yesterday? I have it at the end of my tongue._

Irina couldn't listen to him any longer and hit him in the face with her free hand. John's head almost didn't budge at all, even though the blow was strong. He narrowed his eyes and clicked his tongue. When he looked at her again, in her blue eyes she saw something far worse than anger. It was pure, psychopathic joy there. He was **glad** that he was being hurt. What the fuck?...

 _\- Aaaaah. **Wrath** is consuming you, as I see. -_ He murmured with a big smile. _\- And although it is very nice to find out new things about you, I am forced to direct our conversation back to the original track. Now, be so nice and try not to damage my face again, okay? Now, let's go. Time is running, so we should too._

* * *

When they finally reached her apartment, they were both soaking wet. John glanced around the apartment with intrigue. It wasn't too big, really. Small, simply furnished. The furniture was modern, but there were not too many of it. The man also noticed a few blouses and trousers scattered loosely on the floor behind the couch and smiled mockingly, though said nothing about the matter. Meanwhile, Irina entered her bedroom, pulling a brown leather wallet from a drawer. This small object was the cause of all her problems, which appeared more and more with each passing day, hour even. She wanted to burn the damn thing and forget about it for the rest of her life.

 _\- Take it and leave. -_ She said through clenched teeth, turning on her heel and closing in the bathroom, not wanting to talk with the man any longer. She already wasted enough time on him. She had enough of it all.

John watched her silently and nodded slightly, checking the contents of the wallet she gave him. Indeed, he found a check in it that would soon become the subject of a court hearing. Before leaving the flat, he took one of the women's shirts lying on the floor and left without a word, carefully closing the door behind him, smiling smugly.

* * *

Irina packed herself in a hurry. She didn't intend to delay it any longer, she knew that she was being watched even now. She put only the most necessary clothes in her backpack, leaving the rest scattered on the floor and the bottom of the wardrobe. She also took the money. In total, she was only $427, but it must have been enough. She put her backpack on her shoulder, her face under the hood and left the apartment, not even thinking about looking back. Carter had enough. Three damn weeks passed and she knew she could not stand a day longer. It all tired her too much. She hurried across the street and got into the car. It was four in the morning. She didn't notice anything suspicious, no cars that should not be here. All those that have now stood under the block were the ones she has seen each day for a year.

The car reacted immediately when he received the appropriate signal and greeted the woman with a pleasant snarl of the engine. She smiled slightly. As strange as it sounded, she loved this car more than any human. Because, unlike people, this vehicle never let her down. Didn't betray her. Didn't hurt her in any way. Actually, it saved her skin a few times.

 _\- Yeah, that's it. C'mon boy. Let's get the hell out of here._

She moved forward quite violently, enjoying the growl of a powerful engine. She was wearing a hood all the time. Not that it would help her, because her car was unique in the whole of Atlanta, but she felt safer. Although it wasn't giving her any actual security at all and she was aware of it. The roads were almost empty, for which she was very grateful. As a result, she could develop high speeds without worrying about speed cameras. She wanted to left the city anyway, and she always managed to get rid of her debts somehow. She had good friends.

 _\- I must admit that I didn't expect to ever hear your voice sounding so tender. It's surprising and somewhat... Disturbing that you are talking to the car in this way, but it's not for me to judge, isn't it?_

She froze, hearing John's voice coming from somewhere inside the car's control panel. She reflexively pressed the gas pedal even harder, pushing it almost to the end, quickly changing gears.

 _\- You fucker... -_ She whispered, without even thinking about stopping the car. The fact that John managed to somehow get inside it convinced her even more that the escape from this city was the only reasonable choice. Either now or never. She couldn't turn back anymore. And she didn't wanted to do it.

 _\- Hello, little lamb. -_ Irina was sure that he was smiling at this point. _\- I see that you have the weakness to break all possible speed limits. You've already broken seven of them in less than ten minutes, which is quite impressive. I see that taking part in nighttime street races has really helped you to master the art of driving to almost perfection._

 _\- End your boring monologues. That's over, Duncan. I am glad that finally I can end this damn show. Or should I say, Seed?_

Now it was the time for John to be absorbed in silence and disbelief. Irina smiled cunningly, broadly, drawing satisfaction from every moment of silence, not interrupted by the lawyer's voice.

 _\- "You're not the only one who has contacts in this city". Did you really think YOU had the advantage of knowledge? We played two games at the same time, and you were the one not aware of playing mine. You underestimated me, Seed._

She heard a quiet sigh, though it sounded a bit... Weird, unnatural. Theatrical even. The smile slowly descended from the woman's face. Something was not right. Again. She must have missed something. AGAIN. It all looked too simple. Even the car growled, as if it sensed something hanging in the air. Something off.

 _\- Tsk tsk. -_ He chuckled. _\- I think that you're the one whos mistake is underestimating someone. Surprised? Let me explain your current situation, then. You are twenty kilometers from the nearest city border, and several police patrols are already on your side. On all sides. Roads have been closed. Roadblocks set out. You have nowhere to run. The fact that your car is bulletproof will not give you much, believe me._

Irina held her breath, noticing police sirens on the horizon only a few seconds later. She pulled the brake hard, McLaren howled, losing it's speed rapidly. She turned the wheel almost an hundred and eighty degrees, turning back. She started to drive again only to go a few meters before being forced to stop again. John was right. There was nowhere to run. Police cars were everywhere. She cursed.

She was trapped.


	5. One Good Lie (Past) - 5

I apologize for the fact that the last chapters were short (every had around 3000 words), but in a way they were supposed to be - they are like shreds of memories, a little retrospection. This is the last chapter about the past of John and Irina. From the next one we jump in the timeline of FC5. I hope that at least a few people liked the story - I'd like to read some reviews from you to know what to improve! Enjoy.

* * *

She was not annoyed. She was not angry. No. Irina was balancing on the edge of devastating rage, carefully hidden in her body, though she didn't know why she was trying to hide it, actually. She wanted to throw herself at John and kill him. He destroyed her life, which was fairly stable anyway. He deprived her of any balance and treated her like a puppet. And apparently it was a great joy to him. When she was pulled out of her car and taken to the police station, she was furious. And when she was suddenly released, she was already fully absorbed in her own anger. And when she saw the face of a young lawyer, smiling mockingly at her, only a strong push away from the policeman escorting her stopped her from throwing herself at the man who hadn't even moved. All the time he looked at her with his blue eyes full of sick satisfaction.

Irina was taken straight to his apartment. She didn't wanted to wonder how the hell Duncan had such good contacts. Is it possible for one lawyer to be able to have half the police in the city in his pocket? Or maybe he had only one high-level friend who dealt with everything? It's funny how much man can do with money. You can even buy power for them, which was quite impressive. And irritating at the same time.

He practically pushed her into his apartment, simultaneously grabbing her arm as she almost fell to the floor. She broke free from his grip almost immediately. He let her do it. He closed the door, and hid the key in the depths of his coat, hanging it away. The girl literally trembled with rage, strands of blond, messy hair glued to her face. She stared at him from under the lightly squinted eyes, clenching her teeth and fists.

 _\- What the fuck were you thinking? -_ He asked in disbelief, looking at her. He stood at the end of the corridor leading to the entrance door, as if to prevent her from trying to escape. Wonderful. She was imprisoned. In **his** apartment.

 _\- One more word, you sick fuck. Just... One more word. -_ She hissed, clenching her fists even harder. Her fingers were almost white, like snow. They could easily compete in this respect with the lawyer's perfectly straight, shining teeth.

 _\- Spare me your cheap threats, girl. Answet my question. What you wanted to achieve? -_ His voice was so calm so... Melancholic even. It was unnatural, it was sick, it was twisted. She hated him for everything he had done to her. Carter took one step forward, watching his reaction. But there was none. He didn't move, didn't smile, didn't try to stop her.

 _\- You're stupid, or just pretending to be? -_ The woman was on the edge of crying, but with all her strength she tried to stop the tears falling into her eyes. She couldn't do it now. She couldn't cry, not with him, not here, not now. She couldn't give him more satisfaction. He won anyway, like every single time. But no. Not anymore. _\- I was trying to free myself from you and from this city, you moron!_

 _\- Calm down. -_ He murmured and also made step forward. It was her turn to react, but she also didn't move. Not because she didn't wanted to, because she did. But her legs refused to do anything. Even her body turned against her. _\- Why were you trying to do that? Nobody tried to hurt you, nobody threatened you. I guaranteed you security._

 _\- Excuse me? -_ She gasped in shock. _\- Who choked me few weeks ago? Who threatened me with a prison and humiliation? When the fuck did you guaranteed me security, because I don't recall that and I never felt safe since I met you!_

 _-_ _I did it because you tried to break the rules. And you lied. You were not born in Ivanovo, no. You were born in Hope County, Montana. Your mother died due to complications a few days after giving birth, so your father, the ex-captain in the SAS ranks, which was true, took care of you. Did I missed something? -_ He asked rhetorically and made another very slow, but confident step forward. And another one. And another.

 _\- No, you fuckin' didn't, but what is the point of this show? What YOU are trying to achieve right now? Because to me it looks like you were just showing off. -_ She saw him approaching her, but she didn't have the strength to step back. Although she wanted to. The only thing she managed to do was to tilt her body back, but it didn't stop him. He came closer and closer, like a wolf sneaking up to the deer. To the **lamb.**

 _\- And what did YOU wanted to achieve by mentioning my old name? Did you wanted to wake anger in me? Regret? Longing? We both act on our nerves, every day. We are two sides of the same coin. -_ He stopped, standing right in front of her, looking down at her. With strange calm, as if understanding. But at the same time she saw something disturbing in the depths of his eyes. Something that was always there, as if dormant. Spark dancing around the powder keg.

 _\- Stay back. Leave me alone. Let. Me. Go. -_ She hissed softly, like a young viper. But he saw the truth. He saw in her the fear and delicacy she was hiding behind the curtains of malice and cynicism. He knew, however, what she was really like. He could read people. They were like open books to him. He loved to open them, read them, pull out any information. Only to later use them for his own purposes. For some reason, incomprehensible for him, reading the book marked as Irina Carter gave him extraordinary pleasure. He loved to see how easy it was to influence her. He didn't have to try very hard, she gave in to him like an obedient cat. And he literally **loved** her for it.

 _\- ... No. -_ He whispered, leaning over her cautiously. She felt his warm breath on her face, as when he was clenching his fingers around her throat, depriving her of strength and hope to escape, to regain her freedom. She felt subdued again, even though he didn't touch her. Yet. And in contrast to the confrontation in that dark, wet street, now she could make any move backwards or sideways. Even just to hide behind a couch like a small child, running away from the parent's anger.

 _\- Let me go. Let me go, let me go. -_ Her voice was getting weaker and weaker, her whispering was starting to become almost inaudible. She felt a squeeze in her throat, tears streaming into her eyes. She was scared. She was afraid of him and wanted to escape from him. Now. Forever.

 _\- Don't be afraid. -_ He was close, he was very close. Too close. His breath, calm and heavy at the same time, mixed with the chaotic whisper of a woman who was too afraid to properly reathe. Desperately, she put her hand on his chest, wanting to keep distance. She felt the muscles tense under her fingers and it was both a wonderful and chilling feeling. _\- Trust me._

 _\- No. Never. -_ Irina felt that her protests would not do anything, but she wanted to try at least. John's face was just above her. Warm hands, hard and delicate at the same time slowly embraced her waist. Somewhere in the depths of her soul panic began to form. But it was too weak to free itself. Woman's body betrayed her again and stayed calm. And it was the worst thing she ever felt in her life.

 _\- You're terribly stubborn, you know that? You're constantly denying everything. It looks like "no" is your life motto. I won't do it, I won't trust you or anyone else, I won't say anything. And so on, without end. Relax, just for once. If not for me, than at least for yourself. Unless you really like to watch yourself suffer. -_ His lips with a surprising delicacy stroked her right earlobe. Unconsciously, but still, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned her chin on his shoulder, closing her eyes and swallowing hard. She gave up. Is this what the development of the Stockholm syndrome looked like? Was it truly the end?

 _\- I hate you for what you did to me. I fucking hate you and I will never forgive you for it. -_ She murmured in his ear, her voice was heavy, eyes wet from tears. He chuckled and he hugged her even more tightly, as if he wanted to push her inside himself.

 _\- I know. But that's okay._

And so she stood, leaning against him, the man she sincerely hated with her whole heart, and him leaning against her. In absolute silence. For very long time. They fell asleep together, in his bed, in their own clothes. And nothing more. He embraced her, and she did so as well. And nothing more.

* * *

 _"Yesterday at 11:54 pm the body of the missing daughter of Michael Abbot, director of the Atlanta bank was found. Clara Abbot was shot in the head by her torturer who turned out to be her father's brother, who had been recently diagnosed with serious mental health problems. Man commited suicide shortly after the murder of his niece. Michael Abbot refused to comment on the matter, cutting himself off from the investigators are still investigating the place where the crime was committed, looking for clues to explain the case, but there are suspicions that the girl was sexually assaulted by her uncle, and her constant rejection of his propositions forced him to such a drastic decision, which was kidnapping the girl and then murdering her._

 _According to the statements of the girl's colleagues, she showed strong homosexual tendencies and was in a quite strong relationship with one of her close friends. Investigators refused to disclose the personal information of Clara's potential partner, who according to the information gathered by the reporters is still sought after and probably still in Atlanta."_

 _\- Great. -_ She cursed under her breath, staring at the TV screen with her brown eyes. John stood next to her, adjusting his hair with his hands, which during the sleep lost their entire order and were now a tangle of slightly wavy strands of bitter chocolate, balancing on the edge of raven black. It all depended on the source of light, actually.

 _\- I'm guessing that you do not feel like confronting the police and being interrogated. -_ He noticed sharply, as was his habit, peering at her out of the corner of his eye. The girl made a quiet, mocking sound.

 _\- No, one meeting with law officers in a month is definitely enough for me. -_ She said, biting her lower lip lightly. She felt uncomfortable with the thought that she had spent the night in John's bed. With him in it. Fortunately, nothing happened between them, but the disgust remained.

 _\- So, what now? -_ Lawyer asked uncertainly, as if he knew what the answer would be. He was staring at the side of her face now, but Irina didn't look back. She was more interested in the TV screen. Or rather, she pretended that she was because she didn't even listen to the reporter's voice anymore.

 _\- I think you know. -_ She answered bitterly, turning to face him. _\- I need... I want to get out of this city, which you made impossible for me yesterday. So tell me what do you want because I don't have much time._

 _\- You're saying that I didn't let you escape? -_ John's voice was a mixture of disbelief and amusement. _\- You don't really think that I sent half of Atlanta's cops after you? You asked for it yourself, speeding up to 170 miles an hour through the city center like a suicide stuntman._

Yes, he was right. In Carter's head came the words of the man from whom she was taking cocaine for John. _"He's a lawyer, not a gangster."_

 _\- Alright, anyway... Ah, fuck it. I need to get out NOW._ _If they start checking my past, and I'm almost sure they've already done it, your dream will come true and I will end up in jail. So at least once try to do something good and don't try to stop me._

 _\- You have very interesting moral compass if you clasify letting a potential murderer escape into something good. -_ He paused, seeing the woman looking at him with a mixture of fear and anger. _\- What? Don't look at me this way, you know that I have spent my time checking your past, just like you did with mine._

 _\- Get to the point, I'm losing time! Will you let me go or will I have to... -_ She bit her tongue at the last moment and swore, seeing a wide smile appear on the man's face. She was on the verge of saying "or will I have to fuck you" but she decided that it was the worst idea she could come up with, so decided to stay silent.

 _\- Or...? Come on, why do you stop at the most interesting moment? If you started threatening me again, then at least finish it. -_ He said, raising his head slightly, as if with superiority, and at the same time a challenge. Something like "come on, try to do something to me."

 _\- Shut up. God, you're so irritating._

 _\- I told you before, that isn't my name._

 _\- Okay, I'm leaving. It wasn't nice to meet you, bye. Burn in hell, or something. -_ She sighed heavily, taking her backpack and heading for the door. She wondered what he will try to do next. Will he try to stop her? Attack her even? Or maybe just ignore the fact that she's leaving for good? She felt like she was playing a damn lottery.

But John Duncan didn't make any move toward her. He escorted her only with his enigmatic, blue eyes.

 _\- I'll see you there, we will have a great time burning together. -_ Man said as a farewell, leaning nonchalantly against the wall.

 _\- Fuck you. -_ She took the keys out of his coat, remembering that he'd left them there the previous evening and opened the door, throwing the keys in John's direction and giving him a last look. He was smiling all the time. Even when she slammed the door and left.

 _\- Yeah, did that last time. I would prefer to fuck you instead. -_ He murmured to himself, turning his head towards the window, staring at the crowded city streets. Somewhere in the distance, police sirens could be heard. But that wasn't his problem. He didn't care. Not anymore.

* * *

The streets were crowded, oh they were. Full of people of all ages. Of course, everything became complicated just now, when the escape from the city was the most difficult to do. Irina sighed heavily and struck the steering wheel with her hand, as if hoping that the traffic jam would suddenly disappear. Nothing like this happened, however, the cars were still squeezing in the street. In the distance, the woman heard police sirens and panic started to arise in her. She put the hood on her head, as if hoping that that would allow her to avoid the eyes of the whole world. Fortunately, soon the sound died down and again the only thing she heard were the muffled sounds typical for a big city and the quiet purr of the engine.

She decided to open the locker in which she usually kept some money to see if there was anything valuable there. With only four hundred dollars in her backpack, it would be extremely difficult to escape somewhere far away, not to mention the beginning of a new life. Again. Inside, however, she found only a few coins, old receipts, and a picture of a redheaded, pretty girl. Irina closed the locker, swallowing hard and resting her hooded head on the back of the car seat. She wanted to press the gas pedal and just rammed everything and everyone along the way, leave it behind and forget.

In the end, she managed to get out of the city center and immediately drive towards the borders of Atlanta, not worrying about slight violations of speed limits. She felt the vibrating of her phone, hidden in her pants pocket, but she didn't intended to worry about it now. Soon the mysterious caller gave up trying to get her attention and everything went silent again.

And after three hours, the woman finally left Atlanta behind her, heading north-west. After a few stops, she finally reached the outskirts of quiet, peaceful Montana, so that she could finally rest, without a need to worry about John, or anybody else.

 ** _Oh, how wrong she was._**


	6. River of Blood - 1

The church was small, and the only source of light was the glowing symbol of Eden's Gate on the wall, centrally above the head of Joseph Seed standing in the middle. The air was strangely heavy, and there was a mysterious, slightly sweet smell in it. Irina carefully followed Whitehorns, watching the members of the cult with watchful eyes, who slowly got up from their seats, sending the law enforcement officers unfavorable glances. Carter could see the rifles in their hands, and immediately all the alarms in her head began to howl. In the eyes of all these people she saw reluctance, dangerously balancing on the border with pure hatred. Their clothes were soiled, men's beards ruffled, women's hair sticking to their faces. If it were not for having guns and mostly tattooed symbols on their foreheads, Irina could mistake them for homeless people. But they were far, far from that.

She looked ahead. Joseph Seed looked like he was surrounded by some sort of a mystic aura. He was slightly stooped, turned sideways, and then slowly turned to face the coming ones. When they were close enough, she noticed his blue eyes, gleaming with shade of green because of his yellow glasses. And with horror she found out that the man was looking at her, exactly at her. As if he knew her. As if he had seen her before. However, the woman's gaze went in a different direction. She looked to the right. Jacob Seed, the tallest and oldest brother, emanated strength and confidence. His hands were at his chest, his head slightly raised. His military jacket reminded Irina of her father and for a moment the woman felt a strange, warm thrill running over her body. But it lasted only for a moment. Soon, again, she felt the mysterious, disturbing cold, which intensified when the red-haired man stuck his hard stare at her, piercing her through, almost inflicting pain with it.

Her eyes rested on Faith, standing on the right. Small, young girl, younger than Irina. She wore a white, delicate dress that gave her a particularly ethereal look. But in her face, although seemingly gentle, something strange was lurking. The woman glanced briefly at Irina, only to look away from her, as if she showed no interest in blond haired woman. But it was not her that was the most terrifying. When the woman found out about the arrest warrant on Joseph Seed, she also knew what it actually meant. However, she had no choice. And although she quietly had the last vestiges of hope that she would never come to this meeting, she felt it was in vain. And, of course, that's how it turned out. John Seed, the youngest of the brothers stood behind Faith on the small podium, making himself the highest point of the gathering. It was not surprising that he was looking exactly at Carter, his shiny, blue eyes were running over her face and body, as if searching for something. His lips were almost imperceptibly parted, as if a man was panting quietly. He held his hands behind his back, his head was initially bent, staring at the woman like at a potential victim. Soon, however, he followed in the footsteps of Jacob and also raised his chin a bit, but didn't let his eyes down from Irina. He swayed his hips slightly, becoming more stable, confident. In his posture she saw a strange mixture of self-confidence and some sort of hesitation. As if he didn't know what he wanted to present with himself.

She was looking at him and he was looking at her. He waited. In the end, she couldn't stand this attack and she looked away, blinking several times, as if she wanted to erase him from memory. She stared at Joseph, but she still saw the outline of a former lawyer behind him. And she felt his eyes on her, just like Joseph's and Jacob's. Only Faith seemed interested in something else, for which Irina was actually grateful for.

The Junior Deputy was looking at Joseph, but she didn't seem to listen to Whitehorse's and Burke's argument at all. Only single words came to her ears, but the girl's mind didn't even analyze them. She caught only disturbing changes in the tone of men's voices. Something went wrong, but she didn't know what. She fell into a trap which was the eyes of the Father, not intending to release her. It was a fight, but the one she couldn't win. Joseph also said something, members of the cult left the church. Nevertheless, the only thing that woman registered was the movement of his lips. She didn't hear the sounds. Didn't distinguish them, didn't understand them.

 _\- And I saw. And behold... It was a white horse. And hell followed with him._

She was almost instantly torn out of her trance when Father stepped closer, exactly in her direction, and extended his hands to her. Irina was behind the sheriff, trying to analyze what she heard. Hell followed the white horse. White horse. Sheriff Whitehorse. And behind him... Hell. The woman looked subtly to the left. Pratt was behind Burke, it couldn't be him. Was this an analogy? Was _she_ the _Hell?_

 _\- Rookie, put the cuffs on him._

The woman parted her lips slightly and sighed. She slowly touched the handcuffs strapped to her waist and grabbed them in her fingers, felt the irritating chill, the cold of metal. As if it told her that it was a bad idea. Something was wrong. Something... Something was going to happen, something that had been in the air since they had entered this damn church.

 _\- God will not let you take me._

Deputy gritted her teeth slightly. She didn't believe in the existence of God. God was the invention of humanity to justify their failures. _"I failed to do something. That was the divine punishment, the penalty for my sins, my mistakes."_ She swallowed hard, walking over to Joseph, holding the handcuffs in her hands. Metal seemed to gain weight rapidly. She felt as like it would slip out of her hands. Carter clenched her fingers on them, as if they were the edge of the cliff from which Irina was about to fall. She stood just before the Father, never taking his eyes off him. They were gentle, but she still saw a threat in them. A prophecy of what was to come. Deputy wanted to shout that they should not be here, that they must leave this church and never come back. Never go back to Hope County. She wanted to lie in her bed again, in her apartment in Missoula, and enjoy the peace and silence.

When she finally put handcuffs on Joseph's wrists, her gaze involuntarily went to John, who... Was smiling. Very, very gently. It was just a shadow of a smile. A smile that frightened her. Her thoughts went to memories from four years ago. To the damn brown wallet from which it all began. If she didn't reach into the man's pocket then, if she waited or just chose a different target, invisible to the eyes of the lawyer watching her back... Everything could look different. The theft of this object caused an avalanche of subsequent, unfortunate events. If it were not for that one mistake made that day, she wouldn't be here. She owed her presence in the ranks of the sheriff's department to John and his eagle eye. Damn it.

She put her hand on Joseph's shoulder, slowly leading him toward the exit from the church. She no longer had the courage to look at his siblings, still standing in the back, watching her for that whole time. She felt the warm skin and relaxed muscles of the Father under her fingers. At this same time she wanted to let him go, as if in fear of being burned. She followed him, dictating him pace. He let her do it. She could smell him, a mixture of some delicate cologne and dust, resembling a little bit an old library. But there was also something else, something sickly sweet. Like some kind of weird flowers.

Deputy felt a bit left behind. Members of the cult gathered around the law enforcement officers leaving the church. Hudson nervously reached for her gun, significantly accelerating. At that moment Irina wanted to run, but she knew she couldn't. Her breathing accelerated rapidly, warm air blowing away the strands of Father's dark hair that hung over the sides of his head. She knew that he was aware of her fear and probably relished it. She felt him vibrate slightly as his vocal cords began to quietly sniff the unknown, gentle and at the same time frightening melody.

A melody that would persecute her for the rest of her life.

* * *

She could feel the intense aroma of a burning fire, its warmth. She could hear the soft crackling of metal and the sounds of the night. The roaring of crickets, distant hooting of the owl. But what bothered her the most was the pain spreading all over her body. Her hands burned with pain, face was warm because of the fresh blood on it. The back and legs were numb. The world was smeared and slowly swirled around her, being a mixture of darkness and fire. Like an incomprehensible, disturbing spectacle. Beautiful and scary at the same time, attractive and repulsive. Wild, untamed mixture of deadly contrasts. She felt the delicate touch of someone's fingers on her bloody left cheek and shuddered instinctively. Deputy sighed softly, as if afraid of making any louder sounds. She felt someone's warm breath on her face, heard a muttering, gentle humming and with the remnants of her strength she struggled to listen to this perfectly balanced, harmonious mixture of sounds.

 _\- That saved a wretch like me..._

She moaned quietly, closing her eyes in horror. She knew whose face she had before her and was panickedly afraid of this view. Irina wanted to cut herself off from all this, she wanted to disappear like mist in the air. To be only an intangible being which, after any form of contact, disappears, becomes only a fleeting memory. Melody hummed by Joseph, however, seemed to mysteriously soothe her physical pain, bring relief, at the cost of attacking her psyche. The man's voice attacked her soul, slowly killing it.

 _\- Stop... -_ She gasped quietly, turning her face away, wanting to hide it behind her arms tied to the roof of the slowly burning helicopter. _\- Stop killing me..._

Father smiled gently, touching her face with his breath once more. The warmth and smell of his body were so intense now that the woman felt as if she was about to lose consciousness, as if her senses were unable to withstand him. She shivered, breathing hard and slowly, trying to move her legs slightly and check how bad they were. The feet reacted, but at the same time they spoke with piercing pain. Irina squeaked quietly, like a wolf pup being chastised by its parent, cringing in fear of reproachful teeth.

 _\- Look at me, child. -_ He whispered, at the same time pressing his hand against her right thigh, as if to rebuke her for just thinking about trying to escape. The woman moaned again, this time louder, the leg stitching with pain as she tried unsuccessfully to strike the man in a defensive gesture. Irina let out a loud breath, refusing to look at the man. She didn'ot want to, she was afraid of him. But she also didn't want to give him satisfaction, to obey his orders.

 _\- Swallow your pride. Do not let it command you. Do not let it crush you. Look at me._

The woman growled softly, just to fell pressure from his hand on her thigh getting stronger, evoking another wave of burning pain. She turned her head slowly and opened her eyes, clenching her teeth. Joseph's face was close, too close to her taste. Irina tried to move slightly, as much as the current situation allowed her, which was a perfect definition of a hopeless, with no way out.

 _\- Do not be afraid. You will be saved, because that is the will of God. Me and my family will lead you to the gates of Eden._ \- Irina shook her head, trying to move again, in spite of everything, ignoring the pain that spoke with every mistake she made. Her breath hit Joseph's face, cold as death. Brown eyes glowed with hatred, the only feeling that grew stronger with increasing pain and suffering.

 _\- I reject the offer. -_ She hissed like a viper, through clenched teeth. There was no fear or uncertainty on her face anymore. There was only fierceness and rage that seemed to pulse in her veins, being pumped into them through the heart beating at the pace of a galloping horse. Joseph only enigmatically smiled, leaned in her direction and laid a warm, gentle kiss on her forehead, then slowly and without much problem managed to get out of the destroyed helicopter. Only now did Irina notice that no one else was in the wreck. Pratt, Hudson, Whitehorse, Burke. Everyone disappeared. They managed to escape? Or have they been taken and murdered?

 _\- Pull her out. The Lamb broke the first seal. The Collapse is upon us, and God requires that this soul must be saved. -_ Father's voice was subtle and came from behind. Carter didn't see him, but it felt like he was talking to someone. But not to her. _\- Lead her on this path, my brother._

No. _No._ **_NO._**

In the depths of her soul, the woman pleaded the mysterious man to be Jacob. She didn't really know what to expect from him, though. But she preferred to bother with the oldest, completely unknown to her member of the Seed family, than to be at the mercy of the one who turned her life upside down. The one who was guilty of all this and deserved nothing more but to suffer.

 _\- Yes Joseph._

She recognized the voice in the blink of an eye. Delicate, as if submissive but still carrying something dangerous. She listened to it in the past and hoped not to hear it ever again. But it was too beautiful to be true. It was just a short dream.

Irina didn't have the strength to cry anymore, so she let her body tremble slightly in the dry spasms of pain and despair.

* * *

The pain almost disappeared, replaced by a monstrous numbness. Her body lost its former elasticity, it became stiff like a piece of wood. The head, which for the last few hours was probably directed downwards became too heavy for the weakened neck. The woman let out a heavy, shuddering breath. The chair on which she sat was hard, uncomfortable. She felt a warm breath against her ear, the touch of someone's hand at her left wrist. Someone was standing behind her, leaning close to her, apparently finishing tying her hands to the chair. At that moment, the instinct to fight has awakened in the woman, so she kicked the air like a frightened doe. Or rather she tried. Her legs were tightly bound. She couldn't do anything. She only felt her head slam slightly against the shoulder of a man standing right behind her. A man who smelled with a abominably familiar, strong cologne.

She clenched her fingers into fists, as if trying to fight the attacker in this way. Senselessly and unsuccessfully. She heard only a small gasp and something that might have been a gentle, throaty chuckle. Deputy closed her eyes, hoping that all this would turn out to be just a bad dream. That she would wake up in her bed and see the remains of whiskey pouring out of the glass lying on the bedside table.

 _\- Stop fighting. You have no chance to win. -_ The man's voice was a strange mixture of deadly seriousness and amusement. Weird contrast, again. Again, one excluded the other. How much easier would life be if the world was nothing but black and white. Irina turned her head to the side, parting her lips, breathing heavily. She saw the tattoos on the partially exposed hands of the man. Tattoos, which she was practically certain, he hadn't had four years earlier. She felt that he wasn't really interested in tying her hand on the chair. Intuitively she knew that his eyes were fixed somewhere in her blonde hair, looking for at least small part of her face. He wanted to see her reaction, see her wriggle with pain, panting heavily and struggling ineptly. It amused him.

 _\- I am glad to see that you haven't lose your fiery temper. It will make everything much more interesing..._ \- He paused, seeing how the woman is trying again to get out of her ties. - _Stop struggling, for fuck's sake._

She stopped after a short moment. Not because his voice suddenly gained strength and sharpness. She simply had no more strength, so she let her head fall back down again. Deputy sighed heavily, feeling the burning pain in her neck. The man stood in front of her and leaned forward, lifting her chin with the fingers of his right hand, forcing her to look him in the eye.

 _\- There you go. Believe me or not, but I really, really missed you. -_ John Seed murmured with a gentle smile. His blue eyes gleamed. The woman noticed that he had practically not changed at all since their last meeting. His hair was arranged in the same way, beard of the same length and trimmed in the same way. As if he had stopped in time. The only change were all those tattoos covering his hands. And scar of the word "SLOTH" carved horizontally along his chest. So it seemed that the lawyer with weakness for cocaine turned into a religious fanatic. It couldn't have a happy ending.

 _\- No reciprocity. -_ She whispered hoarsely, clearing her throat quietly and staring reluctantly at his eyes. He still kept her chin up with his right hand, while left was resting on her own, that was tightly tied to the chair. She shuddered as his fingers touched her skin, which made him smile even more. He was enjoying it, looking like a child who got the perfect gift for the holidays.

 _\- I though so. But this isn't a problem, because one way or another we will return to the topic of our time spent together. -_ John stood up and whistled, leaning nonchalantly against the wooden table, located a little on the right side of Irina. She looked at him intently. In his right hand he held the knife, turning it playfully between his fingers. A delicate, yet disturbing smile didn't leave his face for even a short moment.

 _\- So. Ready for your confession?_


	7. River of Blood - 2

She stared at the flash of John's knife dancing in his hand, reflecting off the red light scattered around the room. Instinctively, she was looking for a way out, something that would give her a little hope. But her body was still sore and stiff, so even if Iriba could somehow slip away she would have to fight with herself and her unfavorable physical condition. John stared at her intently, the delicate, ominous smile dancing on his face. The woman leaned back even though she felt the vertebrae of her spine painfully sticking into the wooden back of the chair.

 _\- No. -_ She said sharply, swallowing hard. She knew that she was walking on a very, very thin ice. She could almost hear how it cracks... _\- You won't hear any confession from me. It doesn't matter what you would do._

John stopped rotating the knife between his fingers, but he still held it in his hand. He let the air out of his lungs slowly, never taking his eyes off the woman. He attacked her again with his look, forcing her to submit, to change her mind. She had the last chance to do it, but she didn't take take it. Despite being aware of being in a lost position and carefully trying to conceal her fear, she didn't lower her eyes. Carter only tried to gently change her position on the chair, although she didn't have much room to maneuver.

 _\- Well, you just did in, in a way. -_ He said, licking his lips almost imperceptibly. He was a predator and she was a victim. Again. Practically every meeting of them could be described by this simple analogy and it made the woman boil in rage. Each time she was unable to defend herself, because he had an advantage over her. She didn't know what was worse - being an object of blackmail, or simply a victim of a kidnapping tied to a chair. _\- So, your **pride** prevents you from opening your soul to me and confessing your sins. But don't worry, I'm here to help you. To free you from this pride._

 _\- No, you're here to satisfy your sadistic lust. Do not try to fool me with the sweet words that your damn brother put in your mouth. -_ She hissed icily, then pressed into the chair even more. John suddenly jumped out to her, and in three long, quick steps he leaned over her again, clenching his left hand on her throat, while the knife kept in the right was approaching her chest. _\- You can't break me. No matter how hard you try._

 _\- Oh, can't I? -_ He teased, his teeth clenched. He was furious, she saw it in his blue voice was low, dripping with menace like a venom. _\- I will break you. Even if I had to do it for eternity and pay for it with my own blood. I will break you, you will curl at my feet and beg me for forgiveness, for salvation. You will tell me everything, every sin you ever commited. I will pull it from you and make you scream._

 _-_ _And you consider yourself as someone qualified to give people absolution? You think you deserve being called the Baptist? You are full of wrath. You are full of pride. You are full of greed, as well as lust from what I remember. You aren't a sinner, no. You are the DEFINITION of a sin, you are all of them combined! -_ She scolded, gasping for breath. A warm hand tightened on her throat more and more, although the woman felt that John himself was not sure whether to silence her or let her finish her speech. He was breathing hard straight in her face and Deputy could have sworn that she felt a very subtle but distinctive smell of alcohol in it. _\- John Seed, the ultimate sin. This is who you are. And no matter what you do, you are unable to change it. Because being a sinner is in your nature, just like it's in mine._

The man burst into her face another dose of hot air. He raised his lips slightly, flashing the tips of snow-white teeth like an irritated wolf. She saw his Adam's apple twitch nervously and move with each swallowing of saliva, as well as tiny drops of sweat glistening at his temples. He was thinking about something. He analyzed. The grip on her throat eased slightly, but the woman still had difficulty breathing. As if that was not enough, she truly felt trapped, threatened. She felt hot, because of the aura from John and his monstrously heavy breath, stroking her face like a summer wind.

 _\- Confess. -_ He murmured, staring at her face, into the abyss of brown eyes. Irina tried to tilt her head slightly, raise her chin. But John wouldn't let her do it, though. He clenched his fingers even harder, more violently. The woman opened her mouth, gasping for breath. The blue eyes of the man involuntarily wandered towards her open mouth and stopped at them for a second too long to be described as an accident. _\- Say yes._

 _\- Why do you care so much? -_ She barely whispered, losing her strength with every moment. The grip on her throat was too much. _\- Why do you care so much about the salvation of the sinner's soul? A sinner who doesn't even believe in the existence of any god, or in the any kind of interference of higher power? Why do you care about a heathen?_

He hissed at her words and flinched his head back, as if with contempt. The knife held in his right hand began to slowly break through the skin on her chest, from which a narrow trickle of blood flowed, carving a delicate pattern. He let go of her throat, which allowed her to breath normally again. She felt burning and pain, cold blade digging into her body. She only clamped her teeth. She didn't intend to make a sound, didn't want to give him that satisfaction, to allow him to enjoy her pain.

 _\- Why would God give you permission to live? -_ John asked in disbelief, shaking his head slightly. He stabbed the knife deeper. Irina's body shuddered, fingers clenched into fists. But she didn't make any sound, clenching her teeth to the limit. _\- You are a fucking abomination who deserve nothing, but hell. No mercy. No salvation. No pity. You should be thrown into the fire._

 _\- You can't kill a demon using a fire, Baptist. -_ She said with amusement, licking her bottom lip. - _More than that, from what I recall, Joseph described me as hell personified. Not literally, but the meaning remains the same. I would say I'm sorry, but I'm really not. You can't do anything. Your brother gave you a task you can't complete. You still believe in his unconditional, true love? -_ She chuckled darkly, accepting an invitation to his game. She didn't intend to be submissive, oh no. Irina wanted to give him taste of his own, deadly medicine. John lifted his head and pulled the knife out of the woman's body. The blood slowly stained her chest and soaked into a black shirt. A shadow of a dangerous smile appeared again on the man's face. He liked it, he liked this game. Although Deputy got on his nerves like no one else, he liked it. She knew perfectly what strings to pull, where to stab to inflict the biggest pain. He respected this because it made her an intriguing opponent. And aroused him, in a way.

 _\- Well, I think I have something perfect for you, little wraith. If you are truly a creature from hell, or even hell personified... This is really, really gonna hurt. But I have this strange feeling that you're gonna like it as much as I will. -_ He smiled even more, leaning closer to her once again, looking her straight in the eye. _\- We're gonna have so much fun, Deputy. So much fun... -_ His voice was nearly a purring. Irina was shocked in how fast his emotions changed. This man was a goddamn emotional rollercoaster. Which could be the reason of her death in the future, if she would take one step too far.

 _\- For me the best form of entertainment will be the view of your head nailed to the stake. And if the rest of your family joins the set, I will become the happiest person in the world. -_ She responded sharply, bobbing lightly in her chair. Her body ached even more than it had when she was regaining consciousness. Now the woman was on the verge of her endurance. John apparently noticed.

 _\- Say yes, little wraith. Confess. You will not avoid the pain in this way, but you will certainly ease it. -_ He whispered close to her ear, gently grasping it between his teeth, brushing it with the tip of his tongue. Irina shuddered. She could bear everything, but not this form of physical contact. Not one that was so similar to the lover's delicacy. It frightened her. It frightened her because John was a _man_. _\- What's wrong? You are so quiet and peaceful when there is a knife under your skin, but you're acting like an ashamed teenager when someone brushes your ear? Such innocence... It doesn't fit you, wraith. There is no place for such emotions like shame or fear in a demon._

 _\- ... Go to hell. -_ She whispered in a trembling voice, closing her eyes. It was too much. Irina wasn't able to withstand such an incredibly sophisticated attack on her psyche. John knew what he was doing. He could do it, he mastered this art at the highest level. She was just a young student who barely understood the basics of it and was immediately thrown into the deepest water. And it was truly horrific experience. And this bastard knew it, he knew how she felt and it amused him to a great level. She wanted to punch him, to drive her teeth in his throat, to stab him straight in the heart. Anything just to end this damn misery.

 _\- Not without you, wraith. -_ And suddenly John just moved away from her, smiling enigmatically. He threw the knife back on the table, far beyond the reach of the already imprisoned woman, just to leave the room without a word of explanation. As he closed the door behind him, Deputy heard the quiet melody whistling by the man. And after that there was only silence.

* * *

From the heavy sleep she was awakened by the sound of cutting something with a knife, next to her. The cool metal gently nibbled on her wrists, but did not pierce the skin. Irina opened her eyes slowly, expecting to see John again after raising her head, but it wasn't him. The woman saw the battered face of Hudson. Her black hair were still bound in a braid. And unlike Carter, her uniform was not removed. Unless...

 _\- C'mon, we have to get the hell out of here... C'mon, Rookie. -_ She whispered hurriedly, helping the woman free her other arm and legs. Irina moaned when, with the help of Joey, she got up from her chair. All bones, like on cue, spoke with dull pain. _\- Can you walk?_

 _\- Yeah, I can manage. -_ Irina murmured, looking around the room. She immediately saw the knife that John has left before and took it. Good. It seemed like Hudson got hers somewhere else, but Deputy prefered not to ask when and how. _\- How did you get in here? You weren't in the helicopter after the crash, I thought that they got you, or something. Or that you've run away and tried to contact National Guard._

 _\- I wish._ \- Hudson's voice was quiet, but there was clearly anger in it. - _They pulled me out of that wreck and gave to John, just like you. I managed to escape, though. This fucking moron tied me to a wheelchair near a flight of stairs. You probably know how it went from there. I managed to get away when he left, probably going to visit you instead. He didn't looked interested in me to be honest._

 _\- Lucky one. -_ She said with a sad smile. Irina was ready to pay any money, so long as John was bored with her too. How much easier it could be. _\- Do you know which way we should go? We don't have much time, John will probably be back soon. I would prefer to be outside by then._

 _\- I don't, really... But it can't be THAT hard, right? It's not a fucking maze. I guess. -_ Uncertainty trembled in Joey's voice, but Irina still enjoyed the current turn of events. They were in much better position now, with knives in their hands and no ties around them. There was a small spark of hope offering an escape. They just had to use it in a good way and have a lot of luck at the same time. After all, this place must have been full with Peggies. _\- Alright, let's do this. Stay quiet, it'll be better if we won't kill anyone. If they find any bodies, we're screwed._

Irina nodded and followed the black-haired woman, stepping cautiously on bent legs to minimize the noise. The knife was surely held in her right hand, while left one was ready to defend her in case someone jumped on her unawares. The door creaked softly at the opening, but fortunately there was no one around who could hear it and could try to see what was going on. Irina's body echoed with more pain, and the bones were screeching like if she was an old man. Carter swore softly under her breath, hoping that the escape would not fail just because someone would hear the creaking of her bones. That would be embarrassing, as well as give John new reason to mock her.

The corridors of the bunker were quite wide, crammed with cardboard boxes and empty barrels, which gave a fairly good hiding place. The women slowly moved forward, trying to avoid Peggies as much as possible. The problem arose when they came across two of them talking to each other, certainly not intending to go in another direction in the near future. Irina motioned to Hudson to take care of the man on the right. Both men stood sideways to them, which didn't help in the current situation. And the Deputies raced against time - if someone noticed that they disappeared, an alarm would sound in the whole bunker, and the main exit would be closed. Carter slowly approached her target, using a stack of cardboard boxes to hide behind. A man was leaning against this stack, his back turned to her at that moment. She had to been extremely careful. One wrong move, one small mistake and everything would went for nothing. One scream of the attacked man would be enough to alert the rest of the bunker residents, including its damn owner.

As soon as the occasion arose, the woman jumped out of her hiding place, pressing her left hand against the man's lips and thrusting the knife into his throat. She heard a soft crack and then nothing. Silence. Blood spurted from the man's artery like from a fountain, instantly flooding the floor and the clothes of the Peggie, who was rapidly losing his life. A few drops of red, life-giving liquid ran down Irina's face, but it didn't bother her at all. She let the body flop to the ground. Hudson also had no problem with quiet elimination. The problem was in the fact that they killed somebody.

 _\- There is no point in hiding these bodies, they will notice this puddle of blood anyway. We must hurry, c'mon. -_ Irina said and moved on, pressing against the right side of the corridor. She hoped that no one would come around the corner now. She wasn't sure whether she would be able to eliminate the target quickly enough in her present situation. Hudson, on the other hand, gave her a signal that it was safe to turn around and follow this passage, so Carter didn't intend to wait any longer. They were walking next to each other again but just for a brief moment, then they would enter the large room, resembling a bedroom and a small warehouse at the same time. A tall, muscular man sat on the chair, brutally pressing the bald head of a struggling woman into a barrel with a greenish substance pouring out of it. Carter immediately recognised it. It was mentioned by Whitehorse. Fucking Bliss.

They moved slowly, noiselessly. The sounds of a woman struggling for breath were certainly helpful, as much as disturbing. Carter wondered if it would be worth trying to help her, but she quickly gave up on the plan. The man was dressed in some kind of heavy armor and was armed to his teeth. Deputy saw two pistols, a large knife, a rifle, and a spiked mace. She imagined her head being smashed by a it and shaked involuntarily. Hudson had to think about the same, because she turned even more pale. They hurried out of the room, letting out the unconsciously stopped air. They didn't know how far it was to get out of this accursed place. After they managed to continue their escape and turn left into the next corridor, they heard John's voice echoing throughout the bunker.

 _\- You can run girls, but I'll find ya'. -_ He said with amusement, and then he spoke to his devotees. _\- Get those sinners back where they belong!_

 _\- FUCK. -_ Hudson hissed and stood up. _\- We've got to run!_

Irina didn't need any additional encouragement. She followed Joey, with little difficulty keeping her pace. Sore feet needed a moment to get used to such sudden physical exertion. But this race with time brought a kind of relief. The women parted, Carter went the right side of the corridor and both of them quickly entered the main hall with stairs at the other end of it. There it was, it surely had to be the exit. However, Peggies soon came out and tried to catch them and prevent from getting out. But they didn't even aim at them with weapons, which meant they couldn't shoot at Deputies, they couldn't harm or kill them. Well, those were some good news, after all.

Irina managed to avoid approaching enemies and quickly jump on the stairs, bouncing and ramming into few Peggies. Her body hurt again, much more than at the beginning. She clenched her teeth, not letting tears run down her face. The stairs leading to the top seemed endless. From the lower level, it was suddenly possible to hear the scuffle and the cursing Hudson. She didn't make it, but Carter didn't intend to return and try to help her. It was totally pointless, she had no chance. The only option was to run up the stairs, as it was the only way to freedom.

 _\- Let her feast on her sin, let her CHOKE ON IT! -_ John's growl was heard once again. He was clearly furious at this point, she could almost see his face, twisted in rage. She was breathing heavily from fatigue, but she didn't stop. She managed to squeeze through the closing entrance and run outside. The sudden breeze of the cool wind was initially a shock, as was the sharp light of the sun, depriving her of sight for a moment. She ran even by then, blindly, doing everything she could to avoid getting caught. One of the men chasing her jumped out from behind the container she just passed and managed to grab her by the edge of her shirt. He stumbled, however and fell to the ground, holding a piece of torn, black material in his hand. Irina lost her balance for a moment, but kept running, down the road.

 _\- Drive the sinner from this place. Let her run, let her hide! She won't escape justice of God,, no matter where she will go!_

She didn't even listen to his voice, echoing in the distance. She practically jumped on the motor, probably abandoned by Peggies at some point and moved forward. She heard screams and warning shots behind her, as well as barking, angry dogs, which only encouraged her to drive faster.

Soon she left the place, driving towards the Fall's End.


	8. River of Blood - 3

The road to Fall's End, though quite peaceful, was in a matter of fact a huge stress for a still shaking woman. The fact that she was riding a motorcycle only made it worse. Irina had contact with this type of transport only twice in her life and she didn't know if she will manage to control it long enough. The vehicle was shaking as she did. However, the girl tried not to think about it. Instead she simply focused on the road, reminding herself of the youth spent in this place. She moved out of Hope County at fourteen and returned after another fourteen years. She was pleased to say that this place has not changed a bit. It has stopped in time, life here was slow and peaceful. At least until this damned cult came here and destroyed everything people here worked for. Rage was boiling in the Deputy, but she tried to remain calm. She intended to release her anger a bit later when she discerned more in the situation. She had to find Pratt and Whitehorse, and release Hudson. It would seem that she forgot about Burke completely. Nothing unusual, though. The man didn't make a good impression on her since the very beginning. She suspected that the sheriff shared her opinion on this matter. She wanted to see him already, to know that he's fine... But she wasn't even sure if he and Pratt are still alive. Joseph's moral compass was a goddamn roulette, so he may decided that they aren't worthy enough, or some other shit like that.

With big relief Irina noticed the familiar outline of the buildings of the small town. If it could be called it like that - it was a complex of just twelve buildings. Pastor Jerome's church, general store, bar and several houses. Nothing special, everyone knew each other and they were like one big family. Carter missed this. She missed all those people and beautiful views of Montana. It was a pity that her return to Hope County took place in such unfavorable circumstances. She always thought she would return here of her own free will. That she would be able to visit Adelaide again, who secretly took her on a helicopter flights and tried to teach her how to pilot this amazing machine. She missed a scatterbrained Nick and a calm, reasonable Kim who was his opposite. Jess, not very sociable, but in this respect perfectly understood by a blonde-haired girl. Yes, Irina missed her carefree youth. All those lonely trips to the Whitetail forests, then arguments with her dissapointed father. Yes, she missed her father too. He was a good, patient and firm man. One of a kind, an angel in a tired, human body. He deserved much better than what he got.

The girl stopped the motor slowly, descending from it on trembling legs. She looked around nervously, searching for some friendly faces. It alarmed her how the town looked like. In many places there were traces of fire, shooting and dried blood. So the cult has also been here. Not that it was especially surprising.

 _\- Hello. Can I help you with something? -_ A familiar, deep voice came from her right. Irina turned her face in this direction to see the vigilant, but calm man.

 _\- Pastor Jerome? -_ she asked in disbelief but also in a hidden joy, stepping closer, standing at the end of the stairs leading to the church. The man had a rifle with him, undoubtedly ready to fire. It made the woman stop in her tracks.

 _\- Yes, it's me, young girl. Is everything alright?... -_ He asked rather rhetorically. He saw that it was totally opposite. Irina's hair was torn and stucking to her face. Her black shirt was covered in blood and ragged in several places, just like the trousers. Shortly speaking, the woman looked very bad.

 _\- Oh, I forgot. You probably don't remember me. I'm Irina Carter. The last time we saw each other was fourteen years ago, the day before I left Hope County and went to Hereford in England, along with my father. -_ She explained, breathing heavily. She still felt John's touch on her earlobe and hated it. She shivered slightly at the mere memory of their recent confrontation. Meanwhile, Jerome smiled broadly and nodded.

 _\- Ah, forgive me. It's been a long time since our last meeting. Come with me, tell me everything. I suspect you've come across the members of Eden's Gate during your ride here. Mary May will find a room for you so that you can rest. -_ He said gently, going down to her. The woman nodded slowly and sighed with relief. Her whole body ached and the pastor undoubtedly saw it and offered help, but Irina merely smiled slightly.

 _\- Thank you, I can manage. I suspect that I will have to learn how to function in this state, since I'm stuck here with this bloodlust cult all around the place._ \- Jerome looked at her questioningly. _\- I'll explain everything soon. The situation is... More complicated. I didn't come here voluntarily._

Jeffries nodded in understanding, then opened the door to the bar and let the woman go first. Deputy went inside and immediately felt the familiar smell of alcohol and some perfumes, and the subtle scent of fresh food coming from the kitchen at the back of the bar. Irina didn't hold back a smile this time as well. She was truly happy at this moment. Everything was as she remembered. Nothing has changed...

 _\- Woah woah woah, look who we have here! I still remember you, an older friend from the yard! -_ Mary May was coming down the stairs, holding a crate of beer bottles in her hands. She put it down on the counter and approached the wounded, tired Deputy with a wide smile. _\- I see that Peggies have already gotten to you, huh?_

 _\- Yeah. It's even better. Come on, I will tell you. Nice hell of a story. -_ Irina murmured and winked, than sat by the bar with Jerome on her left and Mary on the opposite side of the counter. - Alright. Do you want the whole story, like, from the beginning, or just the retrospection from the last few hours?

 _\- If you have enough strength right now, tell us everything. I nearly forgot about you, never thought you would come back. I was thinking that you found some good job and stayed in England. Or maybe moved to Russia, or something. -_ May put a glass in front of the woman and pointed to the bottles behind her. When Irina nodded her head towards the whiskey, the barmaid smiled. Seeing a slightly disapproving look on Jerome's face she only shrugged slightly.

\- So. - Deputy began, bringing a glass to her lips. _\- I went to Hereford with my father, where he was employed as an instructor in a local shooting range. Military habits remained, the old man couldn't function normally without access to the firearms. He sent me to school. I was a typical recluse, I didn't make friends with anyone there. A few months after my eighteen birthday my father died of a heart attack. His PTSD was pretty bad, though he was fighting with it, otherwise he wouldn't get a job in shooting range. In the end, I think that was still the reason of jis death... But, anyway. I didn't wanted to stay in England because everything reminded me of him. So I went to Russia for three years, just like you thought. -_ She muttered, looking at Mary. _\- I found myself a small flat in the suburbs of Moscow and lived there. And I found myself... Friends. Helpful friends. Life got a little complicated, I got involved with alcohol and street racing. And pickpocketing. One of my friends had contacts at the McLaren car company, so he got me a car, where they also made it bulletproof... Don't ask why, it's totally different story. So, I was winning street races for him, giving him thirty percent of profits. It was a very good deal for both sides. He earned a whole lot of money, and in turn I had good contacts with not necessarily good people and a way of entertainment that I wanted. It was a good life, but I decided that I wanted to try to live somewhere else. And that was the biggest mistake I have made in my life._

 _-_ _I didn't suspected that kind of story, I admit. Although you actually liked to cause problems as a teenager, from what I recall. -_ Jerome smiled. He understood the situation, after all. And Irina was grateful to him. Mary poked the woman lightly in the arm to force her to continue the story.

 _\- Don't be so impatient._ \- Carter chuckled and put an empty glass on the counter. _\- I moved to Atlanta. The first ten months passed calmly. Some of the people I knew in Russia had contacts in the US too, so I didn't have to start everything from the very beginning. Though it was still hard. There weren't many opportunities to street racing, so more often I had to take out wallets from people's pockets. One day someone caught me during that and followed me for a while. Guess who. -_ She paused for a moment, but on the faces of Jerom and Mary she saw only confusion. _\- Atlanta's kingpin, John Duncan, lawyer and one of the richest people in the city. Currently known as John "The Baptist" Seed._

 _\- Wait, wait. You mean, you knew him already before you came back here? The hell... -_ Fairgrave looked shocked and looked at Jeffries, who also clearly didn't knew that to think about all this.

 _\- Yes, but this acquaintance was definitely not pleasant. He took the advantage of his inviolability and blackmailed me. Honestly, I don't know why. The only thing that comes to my mind is an explanation suggesting that John was just looking for entertainment. So, I was his courier and I was bringing him cocaine because he had a weakness for it at the time. It lasted for almost two months. Then I had to get out of town and he let me do this. Though he managed to thwart mine first escape, taking place just a day before the second one. I was never so pissed at someone._ _I left Atlanta and returned to Montana. I lived in Great Falls, you know, not far from Missoula. And there, against all life's expectations, I became law enforcement officer. -_ She chuckled. - _My friends got me a new, clean past, so I managed to do it without major problems. So I lived quite calmly, until suddenly an arrest warrant for Joseph Seed appeared. I was taken into it, although I didn't want to do it. And it ended up badly. When we led him out of the church, Peggies attacked us. The helicopter that we were escaping in has crashed and everyone was taken away somewhere, or killed, I'm not even sure. Me and my co-worker Hudson were given to John, but we managed to get out of our rooms. We tried to escape from his bunker. I succeeded, but they got Hudson and I knew I couldn't help her. And then I came to you immediately. End of the story, here we are._

 _\- Oh. So that's why you look like this._ \- Mary smiled a little bit, but there was sadness and a little bit of anger in her eyes. - _Nice story, Irina. It's good that you came back, you'll help us. But first, rest. Upstairs there is a free room with a bathroom. Tomorrow we will discuss the current situation. There are people who need help in all of Hope County, but we'll start by helping those around here, in the Valley._

 _\- Thanks, May. But are there any people in Fall's End who can defend the town? John won't let me go just like that, he will look for me for sure after... Our conversation. And he probably knows that I came here. He knows that I have connections with this place, he knows my past. And he's not stupid. -_ She said with resignation. Jerome put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it lightly in a gesture of consolation.

 _\- Don't worry about it. People don't watch idly what is happening here. They've been fighting cult ever since it became aggressive, and it has begun just a few weeks ago. We don't know why, but there are rumors that Joseph had some vision related to the Collapse, for which Peggies have been waiting for a long time. -_ Pastor glanced at Mary, who snorted softly but said nothing about the matter.

 _\- Alright. Thanks for everything. I'm gonna go upstairs... I really need a shower._

* * *

Joey started struggling as John tightened his bonds on her wrists. Blood ran down her hands, sweat from her forehead and temples. Her face was in tears. She was terrified, and her heart was beating like never before. She didn't knew what was to come. Seeds were unpredictable.

 _\- You were so brave, helping your friend in escape, and now you cry like a small child. Where did your bravado go, Deputy Hudson? -_ The man's voice was dripping with mockery, and his face was twisted with anger. He was furious because Carter managed to escape. He was angry at himself, at his people, but above all at Hudson, who was guilty of all this. Joey tried to say something but she didn't have a chance. Her lips were sealed with tape, so only a muffled moan managed to escape her throat.

 _\- Oh, I'm so sorry, I can't hear you. Can you repeat?_

John looked at her with reluctance. Hudson couldn't stand the piercing gaze of his blue eyes and turned her face away, hot tears burning her cheeks like a real fire. Joey was trembling with fear and pain. John didn't spare any words of contempt nor blows. He was beating her her, leading the woman several times to the edge of unconsciousness, only to stop suddenly. He didn't want her to faint, no. He wanted her to feel the pain all the time.

 _\- It hurts, right? This is the price for sins, the price that must be paid. You have shown extraordinary greed, making it impossible for your friend to repent, to atone for her mistakes. Instead, you have guided her back to the wrong path, from which she will not be able to turn back on her own. Do you understand what you have done? -_ The Baptist asked, grabbing the woman's chin. Without any dose of delicacy. He dug his fingers into her skin, enjoying her helpless scuffle She was like a young hare, caught by an eagle and trapped between its claws that were piercing through her body, taking her live away. _\- Oh, you want to say something? It better be something good._

He tore the tape from her mouth with one strong motion. Hudson howled like a wounded wolf, so the man hit her in the face to silence her. The woman sobbed quietly, then slowly raised her head, breathing heavily. Her face was red and bruised and stung like hell.

 _\- You... You... S-s-ssick ff-fuck..._

He slapped her again, grabbing a knife and putting it to the throat of a woman, who swallowed nervously. Her lips trembled and eyelids began to swell. She felt the blood running down her hands, sinking into her trousers. The ties on the ankles and wrists were so tight that it felt as if the ropes were going to break through the skin at any moment and cut off her arms and legs from the rest of her body. She wanted to howl and cry again, but knew how it would end, so she just clenched her teeth. The jaw also spoke with dull pain, and warm tears rolled down her face.

 _\- Do you wish to confess? -_ John asked with strange calmness, maybe even boredom. Although, without a doubt, the whole performance was pure, fucked up entertainment for him. Joey let out a small gasp, still afraid to look the man in the face. She felt as if she was talking to the devil himself. Maybe even that was true at some point. Maybe John Seed was the devil?

 _\- I wish to go back home... -_ She whispered quietly, looking at her legs. At this point she would welcome death with open arms. It would be the best kind of freedom. Joey was pretty sure she was in hell right now. The way John treated her couldn't get probably any worse... Alright, it could. Hudson thought about possibility of getting raped and wanted to cry again. _\- Please..._

 _\- And w_ _hat is waiting for you at home? A family of sinners? Your home is here. You will be welcomed with open arms. You just have to let your soul be cleansed, confess your sins, and repent. Father loves all his children, no matter what have they done in the past. -_ Hudson felt it was all just lies. It was impossible for John to just accept her in this abnormal family after all that had happened. He didn't care for her, not at all. He would gladly kill her if he only could. John just wanted to get Irina back for some strange reason, and Joey was afraid to think why and what he would do to her if he would get her again.

 _\- I won't confess. I have nothing to say, nothing for you to hear... AAAAAAAH! -_ She screamed when he stabbed the knife into her right hand. The pain just got a lot worse, and she thought it was impossible. _\- STOP! STOP, STOP!_

 _\- Confess, and the pain won't bother you anymore. -_ He was calm, so fucking calm it made everything worse. Drops of blood ran down his face and soaked in his beard. She looked at him for a short moment and regretted it immediately. She no longer had any doubts. John Seed was a demon in the human body.

 _\- I won't, I fucking won't! -_ She cried, struggling, despite the fact that she was only worsening her condition. The knife was still stuck in her hand, and the wound only increased. _\- I will not tell you anything, you fucking psychopath! I will wait here until your bloody head is thrown in the mud!_

John growled like a furious beast, moving away from the woman. He didn't pull the knife out of her body, he left it the way it was, stepping out of the room and slamming the door behind him. Bloodstained. Furious. He didn't intented to waste any more time on Hudson now. Not when Irina was still somewhere in the Valley, because she certainly didn't manage to get out of it.

He was not going to let the girl escape.


	9. River of Blood - 4

When she woke up, the sun barely began to rise over the horizon. The birds were just awakening, but their joyful singing was already heard. The woman sighed quietly, falling over to the other side, not having much desire to get up at such an early hour. She tried to fall asleep again, but it was for nothing. Hudson's and John's faces hit her memory again, causing Irina to get out of bed, cursing under her breath. She rubbed her face with her hand, blinking rapidly, wanting to revive herself. She dressed her trousers, still soaked in dried blood in some places and pulled from the wardrobe the first shirt that she was able to find. A tiger's skull pierced by a spear? Why not. In any case, Irina never was that kind of woman who stood in front of the wardrobe for half an hour, wondering what to wear.

She looked at herself in the mirror, quickly improving the arrangement of unruly hair. Her face, although still pulsing with fatigue, looked a little better. The girl stroked the golden dragon earpiece onn her right earlobe, then slowly descended the stairs. To her surprise, in the bar there were probably all the residents of Fall's End, gathered in front of the TV screen.

 _\- Oh, you're just in time. John send a message to everyone in the Valley. It should interest you. -_ Mary May pointed to the screen. Irina came closer and stood a bit behind her friend of years of carefree youth, carefully staring at the TV set. John Seed made his speech. Freedom from sin. Mhm, sure. Irina was not really interested in this stupid bullshittery, at least until Hudson appeared on the screen, with tape on her lips and tears streaming down her beaten face. Carter clenched her fists, but said nothing. The message ended and people slowly began to leave. Only Mary remained in the bar and sighed heavily.

 _\- You know, Dep... I have a feeling that this message was meant to be sent to you. Personally. -_ May put a glass of whiskey in front of a woman, in the other hand holding an open bottle of beer and drinking it cautiously.

 _\- He didn't say my name even once, so I don't really think so. He was just staring right at the camera, but that is not surprising. -_ She murmured in response, enjoying the taste of her favorite alcohol. Faigrave chuckled lightly.

 _\- You see, but you do not observe. -_ She sighed again, seeing Carter's questioning look, apparently not understanding the words of the barmaid. _\- Have you seen how they made that place? There were flowers and other decorations, that is, they prepared it carefully. The shots were taken from various sides, so there was a whole damn film crew there. So how do you think, how many times did they shoot this? It certainly didn't work out the first time, it never does. John is probably an idealist, so if he noticed any mistake or understatement, he told them to start all over again. He devoted a lot of his time to this. He wouldn't do it without a reason. He certainly planned the speech carefully as well, each word must have meaning and value. And he certainly wants to get to you. After what you said yesterday, I have no doubt about it and Pastor probably thinks the same. John would not waste precious time trying to get to people in the Valley while **you** 're somewhere in the region, trust me. This whole message was sent to you. He is counting on you to go against him again._

Deputy shuddered. She didn't wanted to think about John at this moment, she wanted to bury herself in some bunker deep underground, away from the rest of the world. But she couldn't do it. Not when Pratt and Whitehorse were somewhere in this accursed county. Hudson, of course, needed help as well, but Carter was mainly interested in the other two. Whitehorse was a mentor to her, almost a father. Pratt, in turn, was a good friend. Joey... She just existed. But that didn't mean that Irina was going to leave her behind, no. John would kill her, sooner or later and said that it was God's will, or something like that. Joseph wouldn't be probably bothered by it, too.

\- I know. - She sighed, squeezing an empty glass in her hand. _\- And although I totally don't want it, sooner or later it will happen. The thing is, I doubt I would be able to return after another confrontation with him. I will not be surprised if I stay in this bunker for the rest of my life, to his big amusement. I can try to fight with him, but I can't run. I've got his full attention and he will do anything to stop me. And I'm so fucking scared, May._

 _\- I know. I know how- I know **what** he is. -_ Mary murmured in response, remembering her own meetings with John Seed. Not a single one was pleasant in any way. _\- But remember. Whatever you want, whatever you need, we will give you if we can. Fall's End is your home. If you will need something from the general store, like weapons or ammo, I will make sure that Mike will give you anything. Because if we won't try to fight with the cult, they will crush us._

 _-_ _Fine. But I still need a plan, I can't get into John's bunker just like that, banging on drums and shouting "release Hudson or die." -_ Irina looked out the window, hearing the sounds of the passing car and immediately sharpening her vigilance. As it turned out, however, it was just an ordinary car not belonging to the Eden's Gate.

 _\- We will think about something. I think that at this moment the best you can do is see what you can do for people in the Valley. You can also take another risk and see what's happening alongside the Henbane, or try to carefully investigate Jacob's actions. We have heard that he is doing some kind of fucked up psychological experiments, but I don't know what exactly is going on. -_ Barmaid took a bottle of whiskey and poured another portion of the drink into the Irina's empty glass. Deputy couldn't hold her smile.

 _\- I'm about to find out, then. Though I probably shouldn't be so curious... Are you trying to get me drunk? -_ She chuckled, but gladly brought now filled glass to her lips. _\- It won't help me in trying not to get caught._

 _\- Yeah, true. But it will help you feel better._

And suddenly there was a familiar noise made by radio in the bar, that was held behind the counter. Mary pulled it out and put it between her and Irina. After a moment on the other side they could hear the screams, the shooting sounds and the man's voice.

 _"Hello? Fall's End? This is Nick Rye! Damn Peggies have come to my area! John fucking Seed is with them! They're trying to break into my hangar and take Carmina! If you can, send someone to help!"_

 _\- I'm gonna go help him. Hold on, Nick!_

 _"Yeah, whatever! Just get in here fast... Whoever you are!"_

The signal was interrupted, so Irina quickly got up and moved to the exit from the bar, throwing Mary another look.

 _\- I have to get there quickly. Is there a car here that I can take? And weapons? -_ She asked hurriedly. Fairgrave threw her keys in her direction. - _Take mine. Black Ford, next to the church. There is a weapon and ammo inside. Just don't get killed._

 _\- I won't. But I hope to get someone else killed._

* * *

When she arrived in less than ten minutes, she felt like she had just visited hell. Dozens members of Eden's Gate were running around the Rye's estate. Nick, armed with only a rifle tried to resist their attacks. Near the hangar two barrels were burning, and Irina was sure that they would explode at any moment. The sounds of shooting, the screams and barking of the dog created a nightmarish musical performance.

 _\- Hey! Get over here! -_ Nick shouted, pointing to the front door to his house. _\- My pregnant wife is inside, don't let those fuckers get to her!_

Carter nodded and hurried toward the house, where two men were already standing and trying to break the door and enter the house. Irina raised her rifle and began firing. At first she felt strange and shuddered. She didn't have a weapon in her hands for several years, so accuracy wasn't her sin for sure, at least not at the beginning. Nevertheless, the element of surprise did its own and the two intruders soon fell to the ground, drowning in their own blood. Suddenly, in front of her, something that looked like a gray-black stain ran with incredible speed. And in addition it was barking. The woman looked to the left, seeing the dog rushing toward Peggies, throwing himself at one of them and thrusting his jaw into the throat, with a few jerks of his head turning this part of man's body into a bleeding, torn slush.

 _\- Yeah! Go get them Boomer! -_ Rye said with satisfaction, but soon his mood broke down again. And no wonder - from a hangar marked with the name "Rye & Son's Aviation" a yellow, small plane was brought, which was quickly picked up by no one else like John Seed. Irina looked at him, stopping at the edge of the runway just a few meters from the Baptist. He apparently noticed her, because he looked straight in her direction, then quickly took off.

 _\- Damn it! Hey, young one, help me get rid of the rest of Peggies, we need to get this plane back!_

Irina took refuge behind a stack of boxes and metal parts probably pulled out of the workshop nearby, then quickly began firing towards the intruders. The dog, which with surprising speed eliminated his targets and at the same time avoided shots proved to be extremely useful and effective. Carter replaced the magazine in her rifle once again, struggling for a moment with the mechanism. She swore under her breath. Lack of contact with the weapon for quite a long period of time did its work, which made the woman feel like a goddamn novice. She knew that if she came out of it alive, she would have to renew her knowledge and skills, otherwise she had absolutely no chances in fighting the armed cult that was in the whole county.

Finally, all Peggies have been eliminated. One who survived escaped to the forest, hobbling and leaving his weapon behind him. Well, apparently not everyone was so fanatically devoted to Joseph and the whole project. Irina breathed heavily, wiping sweat from her forehead and walked over to the property owner. Ash, blood and gunpowder were in the air.

 _\- Thanks for the help. It would be hard for me to deal with all this without you. I'm Nick, but you probably already know that. -_ He said and offered her a fist-bump. Deputy accepted it and smiled gently.

 _\- Irina. Irina Carter. Younger friend from the yard. -_ She said cheerfully, scratching behind the ear the dog who came to her, messing her pants with saliva dripping from his mouth. It didn't bother her, however.

 _\- ...Irina? The same that ran around the Valley together with Mary May? And then she tried to get my Kim into it as well? -_ He asked in disbelief, pulling the sunglasses from his nose, as if he wanted to look more closely at the woman.

 _\- The one and only. It's good to see you. And congratulations, by the way. I always thought that you and Kim would get married someday. -_ Rookie admitted, sighing heavily and looked up in the sky. _\- We should go and get your plane back. I saw that John flew away in it._

 _\- Yeah. That bastard_ _has been trying to convince us to join this whole cult for over a year now. I had refused him about five times, so he apparently lost his patience and decided to deprive us of the possibility of escaping from the county. I was going to take Kim and get away from here before it gets really hot. John probably expected that. Carmina is probably already at his ranch, which is guarded better than the misers' wallet. -_ He explained reluctantly, casting a sad glance at the open and gaping emptiness of the hangar, in which his family's pride had been standing until recently.

 _\- It's already hot right now. In a way, it's my fault. My return to Hope County has been associated with a number of disasters, and John will probably do everything to try and get me. -_ She explained, stroking Boomer's head, then checking the magazine in her rifle. _\- Damn it, I don't have any ammo anymore, and I won't go there without a weapon. Do you have something? With a silencer perhaps, I want to go there quietly._

 _\- You mean "we will go there quietly"? -_ Nick sked with uncertainty, squeezing harder the weapon held in his hands.

 _\- No, Nick. If you have a wife now and from what I heard also a child in the near future, you can't take a risk that something would happen to you. And you certainly shouldn't leave Kim alone. -_ She replied, not going to negotiate in that matter. She wouldn't forgive herself if anything happened to Nick during the mission. Kim's reaction would probably be far from positive as well. Irina imagined that she would reunite with her old friends in a much different way.

- _Alright. But if something bad happens, you just get your ass from there, you hear me? Carmina has a great value to me, but I won't risk your life to get her back. I will find another way, sooner or later. Just... Be careful. -_ He said, motioning his hand towards the warehouse. Irina walked behind him and chuckled sadly.

 _\- Don't worry, it's gonna be fine. I can take care of myself._

Oh, how wrong she was.

* * *

Nick was right. John's gigantic house was heavily guarded by about two dozen Peggies, who probably wouldn't have thought long before firing a shot if any of them saw the intruder. It was only now that Irina realised that she found herself in great danger. As if that was not enough, she intended to go straight into the dragon's den. To get to the hangar, which was on the other side of the ranch, she had to show exceptional caution and intuition. One mistake and everything would went for nothing, probably including her life as well.

She decided to circle the ranch from the left side. In this way she would certainly not have get to her goal faster, but it would was safer way. However, she had to avoid snipers on the roof, who surely had binoculars with them and looked for any threats in the sky or on the ground. Probably they expected someone to try to get the plane back. But did they expected only one person who would undertake an almost suicidal mission? It was hard to tell. Deputy walked cautiously, on slightly bent legs, hiding behind a line of trees and shrubs and observing the surroundings. It was possible that patrols went through the forest from time to time. It was known that John's place of residence was exceptionally well protected. The Project couldn't afford to lose one of its heralds. Irina had only one advantage over them and it was her experience in silent approaching to the target. She was never good at loud attacks full of explosions and chaos. She preferred to act quietly, patiently but effectively. Although she never stood before such a difficult task as now. Her heart beat extremely fast, which she couldn't control in any way. She felt the dryness in her throat and immediately start missing the alcohol, which took vigilance but gave courage instead. Well, nothing was for free, wasn't it?

When she finally managed to get to the other side of the ranch she began to walk along the wall of the house, surrounded by shrubs and stones, which made her task a bit easier. Nevertheless, she still had to avoid the six members of Eden's Gate, not raising any suspicions and make sure that she covered her tracks. She didn't saw dogs anywhere nearby, but who knows if Peggies didn't use them from time to time.

She held a pistol with a silencer in her right hand, and in the left a knife that she could stab someone with if she was forced to do so. But she didn't really wanted to kill anyone. Although her past was definitely not clean, Irina was not a fan of taking human lifes. Sometimes, however... There was simply no other choice. The woman held her breath and hid between the bushes, waiting for the two patrolling Peggies to calmly walk past her. All this seemed to last longer than it should have, which irritated and worried Carter. However, she had to wait. The mistakes were not acceptable this time.

In the end she managed to break through the patrols and finally stood in front of the hangar. The problem? It was an open area, and on the other side of the runway stood three men talking to each other. If they turned to her now, the whole mission would fail. Blonde haired woman took a deep breath. She wanted to get inside by one of the windows, but these were closed from the inside, while the attempt to break the glass would immediately alert everyone in the area. She had only one option and couldn't wait any longer. Pulling her finger closer to the trigger of the gun, she carefully opened the front door, slipping inwardly smoothly and closing it behind her. She looked around carefully. The hangar was quite dark and nobody was inside. Nick's plane stood in the middle and was in quite a good state. Now all that Rookie had to do was to open the hangar door and get on the plane as soon as possible, preparing for not a very pleasant take off. It was good that at least the vehicle was armed with a machine gun - it could definitely be extremely helpful.

Unfortunately, Irina wasn't able to check the effectiveness of the gun. She heard the rustling behind her and immediately turned in that direction, but the attacker was faster and managed to knock her gun out of her hand. Despite this, the woman managed to cut him with the knife held in the other hand. The wound on man's chest was not too serious but it quickly began to bleed, and the wounded snarled furiously and took a step back. At that moment, Deputy realized that she felt a strong smell of familiar cologne around her.

 _\- YOU FUCKER. -_ She cursed and heard a dark chuckle. John jumped towards her again, with an agility and speed unusual for a lawyer dodging another blow and grabbing the woman's wrist and twisting it, forcing her to drop her knife. Irina gasped with pain, but managed to hit a man in the face with her free hand. John hissed and winced, then kicked the woman centrally in the stomach, sending her to the ground next to the plane which she was planning to escape in just a few moments ago.

 _\- It was too easy! I thought I would have to wait longer for you, and meanwhile you came back to me the next day after your escape. You must have missed me too, apparently. -_ He said with a wide smile, then pressed her to the ground and sat on her abdomen, sore from the kick he welcomed her with. Irina moaned softly, feeling the weight of the man pressing exactly where the beautiful bruise had already begun to form. John grabbed her wrists and put them behind her head. She tried to struggle, but it was pointless - the man obly pressed his body harder, with all his weight, causing in another waves of pain. _\- Aaaaah. My little wraith. Still trying to fight..._

 _\- Get off me! -_ She hissed through clenched teeth, looking at him furiously. He looked so happy and proud of himself it only made her anger worse.

 _\- Oh, come on, that's no fun. And you didn't confessed yet. Should I baptize you in holy water, my dear wraith? -_ He asked with amusement and mocking smile. She tried to free her hands from his grip, but that was another struggle that made no sense in her current situation.

- _Stop treating me like your property. -_ She said furiously, looking at his smiling face. She wanted to hit him again, this time much harder. And with something that would have detached his head from his body.

\- I see that you still don't understand. So let me explain your current situation. - He said in a calm, typical voice, leaning towards her face and stroking her left ear with his lips, then biting her earlobe until it started to bleed. _\- You belong to **me**. You're **mine**. And I can do **anything** with you._

 _\- You're insane. -_ She whispered nervously, feeling her heart begin to beat even faster than before. John brazenly violated her private space at every opportunity and broke nearly all physical barriers. And he did it with pure premeditation. It amused him.

 _\- And you're a sinner. So, we should go back to our conversation from yesterday, don't you think?_ \- He said, then released her hands and quickly pulled a strange greenish powder out of the pocket of his coat, which he then approached to the woman's face. When she realized that it was Bliss, it was already too late. In a desperate attempt to stop the man Irina grabbed his wrist with one hand, the other touching his right hip, painfully piercing her fingers into his body. It was just a defensive reflex, completely unplanned. And again completely useless. John literally strew powder into her face. Her pupils had immediately blown to hell, after which the woman simply lost consciousness. Or at least... That's how she felt.


End file.
